


Ravenstag

by Attila12, Vulcanmi



Category: Hannibal (TV), Sweeney Todd (2007), Sweeney Todd - Sondheim/Wheeler
Genre: Brief Sexual Content, Hannigram Sweeney Todd AU, M/M, Murder Family, Murder Husbands, Musical, Roleplay, Will Graham as Sweeney Todd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 17:11:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18286649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attila12/pseuds/Attila12, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vulcanmi/pseuds/Vulcanmi
Summary: Will Graham comes home after escaping a prison he'd been thrown into on a false charge. His beloved Alana dead, all he wants is revenge on the person who did it. Thankfully, he has an old friend who's eager to help. Almost too eager.





	Ravenstag

**Author's Note:**

> This is a roleplay Atilla 12 and I did a couple years ago now, with me as Hannibal and him as Will. I just recently rewatched Sweeney Todd and thought of this little gem and decided I had to share it with the world. Please enjoy all the camp that is the Murder Family in the Sweeney Todd universe. Did we rewrite song lyrics? You bet we rewrote song lyrics!

Will Graham, formerly Will Ravenstag, was not a happy man.

 Life had been very unkind to him thus far. It had stolen away his wife, his child, his livelihood… For a while, it had even stolen away his dignity and sanity, the latter of which he couldn’t even be sure he’d entirely gotten back. But, over the years, his despair turned to anger, resentment, and hatred, and he channeled those feelings into planning, into escaping.

It was after that escape that he met Jack Crawford.

He combed his fingers through his tangled mess of brown curls, glad to finally have some measure of freedom. Even in this moment of relative peace though, there wasn’t enough peace inside of him to enjoy it.

He eyed some fishing poles near the rear of the boat and longed for the days when a little fishing could quell any ill feelings he had.

Jack approached the man that they'd fished up out of the sea, lips pulling back in amusement. Will Graham was...an oddity, to say the least. After being saved from drowning he was fairly certain he hadn't seen the man smile once. He never joined the other crew when they ate, or unwound with some drinks after a long day of sailing.

He was a loner. There was this look on his face, a dark look, that made Jack curious what all this man had seen.

He approached the other, hands sliding into his pockets. "We'll be making port soon," he said, inflecting good humor into his tone. 

*I have sailed the world, beheld it's wonders, from the Dardanelles to the mountains of Peru, but there's no place like London...*

It would be good to get home again.

“No there’s no place like London…” Will echoed in a muttered voice, a gloomy look on his face as he glared at the approaching skyline of his former home.

Jack's smile gave way to a soft frown, and he turned his eyes away from the city to look at the man. "...Everything all right, Graham?”

Will sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, as he thought.

*We aren’t young…

Life isn’t kind, as I’m…

Sure you’ve learned.

The whole wild world’s like a great black pit

And the vermin of the world inhabit it

With morals so ignored that they aren’t worth shit

And guilty of it all is London…

At the top of the heap sit a privileged few

Making mock of the vermin in the lower zoo

Turning beauty to filth and greed…

I too have sailed the world and seen its wonders,

For the cruelty of men is as wondrous as Peru

But there’s no place like London!*

Jack stared at Will, wondering just what had happened to make him so cynical. "Got something against London then?”

Will frowned. “Maybe a little. My grudge is more against the human race in general though.” The monster inside man could lurk anywhere. London was just the place he’d first become painfully aware of that. 

Jack hummed, deciding to leave Will to his brooding. "There might be more good in the world than you think Graham," he said, going back to help the others prepare to dock.

“Well then pray to whatever god you believe in that I’m wrong…” Will whispered to himself as Jack went to work the boat, shaking his head before going to do what he could, as well. It was better than staring at the approaching land. Better than reliving the past. Daydreaming of old ghosts and shadows. 

He almost shuddered as he set foot on land, looking around. He didn’t like just how uneasy being here again made him feel. And yet, he felt he needed to be here.

When they docked, Jack felt obligated to make sure Will was off all right, worried about the man with the dark eyes. "Do you have a place to stay?" He asked, admittedly a bit concerned.

“I used to live here,” Will said, voice tinged with hint of bitterness. “I was thinking I’d start by seeing if my old place is still available…”

Jack held out a hand, glad at least the man had a plan. "It was nice meeting you, friend. Maybe we'll see each other again.”

Will nodded, not meeting the other’s eyes as he held out his own hand to take Jack’s. “Yeah. Thanks again for fishing me out of the water,” he said, wanting the man to know that, despondent as he was, he did appreciate the act.

After they parted ways, he took a moment to get his bearings, to tap into his memories and refamiliarize himself with these streets he’d been away from for so long. It was easy enough to find himself going toward the place he’d used to call home though. And as he walked, he couldn’t help but replay the past, over and over again in his mind.

-

Hannibal smiled as the last customer left, signaling the end of his day. All he had left to do was clean up, and then it would be off to bed. Perhaps he'd do a bit of reading, or indulge in a glass of wine.

He stared down at the counter as he wiped it clean, mentally cataloguing the tasks he had left to do before he'd be turning off the lights.

Many asked why he didn't hire help, running his little restaurant, particularly considering that, little though it may be, it was quite popular, but he always responded by saying simply he didn't mind the work. And it was true. Every day he woke up pleased with his life, his direction, his job, himself.

He looked around the store fondly, memories wafting past his thoughts like streams of smoke. Dulled by time, but not forgotten.

As Will drew near, he noticed a somewhat familiar sign posted above the door. He frowned, tilting his head.

Florence Whispers…

Curious, he stepped through the door, knocking on the frame.

Hannibal heard someone open the door as he was wiping down a table, and he straightened, folding his rag. People often chose to ignore the "closed" sign, when he still had the lights on like this. When he turned to tell the person that he was sorry, but they were closed, he nearly dropped his rag.

William Ravenstag's face stared back at him. A face from the past. An impossible face, but it was that face he saw nonetheless. Hannibal looked away briefly, telling himself he must be imagining things. 

But, he'd never been one to let his hopes color his thoughts. Save for where Will was concerned, of course. Either way, he certainly wasn't going to shoo the man away.

"Oh, a customer," he greeted with a small smile. He stepped away from the table he'd been wiping down, restraining the urge to run a hand through his hair and straighten it out.

*Here

have a seat, take it easy

You're looking fairly pale-

almost like you've seen a ghost

Any table that you like,

go ahead sit,

You look like you haven’t had a good meal in weeks* 

Hannibal walked back behind the counter to get the leftover pies still warm in the oven, his specialty, and all that was left after a long day. They went fast, so he always made sure to have an abundance.

*Did you come here for a pie sir?

Or perhaps something more sweet than savory?

Hmm, l guarantee

Any flavor you could dream

You will definitely

Find it here

No doubt at all

Heaven’s blessed my shop, sir

Daily dozens come in just to inhale

Where are my manners, would you like a drop of ale?*

He got a cup and moved to set it on the man's table, already feeling a sort of buzzing excitement that was quite rare for him, these days.

Will was a bit taken aback when presented with a familiar face. It didn’t show outwardly, but, to see the same man, the same face, with only a few extra lines and other small changes since the last time he’d seen it years ago, it deepened the profound sense of loss, the time he’d had stolen away from him.

He moved to take a seat. He really was starving, and Hannibal’s cooking had always been amazing. He was sure, as dedicated to it as he was, that was one thing that hadn’t changed.“Yeah. I could use it,” he confirmed, watching the man, wondering if he recognized him too. Given the behavior and the closed sign on the door, he had to assume it was a yes.

That voice... Hannibal indulged himself and closed his eyes briefly after his back was turned, becoming more sure of himself. Will. It was Will, it had to be. Come back from the grave. Because anyone sentenced to the colony in Australia was as good as dead. 

Past regrets surfaced and feathered apart, his joy rising. With this came the desire to fill the space with words. He had so many questions, but he didn't want to ask, didn't want to overwhelm the man until he was ready to speak. 

*Mind you I can hardly blame them

These are probably the best pies in London*

He said in a light boast, picking up the container of ale and moving to fill Will's cup. As he did he reigned in his smile to something slightly more professional, then turned to prepare a plate.

*I’ve seen customers fight to take them

Soon you'll know

Just taste them

Common? No

The best pies in London*

He slid a pie onto a plate, garnishing with some basil and quickly making up a salad. His lips twitched slightly at the corners, happy to do a little bragging, if it might jog Will's memory. He'd often teased that he had the best food in all of London, faking more arrogance than he actually had. Even if it was true, he really didn't need the validation from anyone but himself. And perhaps Will.

He moved back to Will's table, carefully sliding the plate in front of him, and finally allowing himself another look at his face.

*You might think I jest

The best pies in London

If you doubt it take a bite…*

Oh, he didn’t doubt it for a moment.Despite himself, Will’s lips twitched, just the tiniest bit, as he humored the man and cut himself a bite of the pie. He was so hungry, and so long deprived of anything but old, stale food that the pie was almost unbearably flavorful. He had to take a moment, just holding it in his mouth, letting his underused taste buds adjust, before he was able to chew.

Hannibal practically beamed at the pleasured look on Will's face, proud to be the one to put it there. He hadn't been lying when he said Will looked undernourished. He would happily fatten him up. How had he escaped, he wondered...

*Is that just delicious?

You have to concede it*

He moved around to the side of the table to stand a more casual distance away, resting his hand along the back of the chair opposite to Will's.

*The crunch of the crusting

Take time sir, savor it*

He recommended, dragging his thumb along the wood. Reluctantly, he stepped away, knowing if he didn't finish cleaning up he'd be up for several hours longer than he preferred. He got his rag again, moving to wipe down the other tables.

He certainly wasn't going to let their conversation end, though.

*The best pies in London...

Considering the price of meat

What it is

When you get it

I think I’ve done fairly well

Men would think it was a treat

Finding poor

Animals

That are dying in the street*

He was going off on tangents now. He didn't even care, happy to ramble, keeping the small twitch of Will's lips he'd seen in his mind's eye. It had probably been some time since Will socialized. He might appreciate getting some time to get used to it before speaking more himself.

*Mr. Budger has a pie shop

does his business but I’ve noticed something weird

Lately all his neighbor's cats have disappeared

Suppose I’ll hand it to him

Certainly

Enterprise

Baking cats into pies...*

He moved back when he finished with the table, going to put things away on the counter, most in the sink to be washed later. He'd finished much of the washing already, having started before the customers left.

*Wouldn’t do in my shop

Just the thought of it’s enough to make you sick

But people do get desperate quick* 

He looked back at Will, tilting his head.

*No denying times are hard sir

Even sometimes for the best pies in London

But I won't babble anymore* 

He picked up the broom and started to sweep.

*Is your palate, rejoicing?

All juicy and flaky?

Are you enjoying?

I’m glad sir

I am just

A man alone

with shop and passion

and the best pies in London

are sir, right here

*

Hannibal paused, turning back to Will. "Would you like a refill?" He asked, gesturing to the cup.

Will listened to Hannibal tell him about the city, disgusting, as always, while he ate, being sure to take it slow, so his palate could continue adjusting. If he ate it too quickly, he might get sick. And he could only imagine Hannibal’s reaction if his body up and rejected one of the "best pies in London."

Hannibal was able to clean and return to offer him a refill in the time it took him to finish the pie, and when asked, he nodded.

“You wouldn’t believe the things I would have done for some ale these last few years.”

Hannibal smiled, moving to pour the other another glass. "Well, there's plenty more where that came from," he promised, finishing the pour with a flourish and replacing the stopper in the bottle. "On the house. I wouldn't dream of charging an old friend." His stomach fluttered briefly at the words, the beginning of a new dance between them.

Will’s lips twitched again. “You moved your shop, I see. Don’t suppose you’re renting rooms?”

Hannibal allowed himself to smile wider at the knowledge that Will had, in fact, recognized him, leaning his broom against the table and wiping his hands on his apron. "I might have something available," he said giving the man a once over. "...William Ravenstag... I must confess myself surprised, though pleased to see you," he probed gently, framing a question in his statement.

“I’m actually going by Graham now,” Will said, figuring the reasoning for that should be clear enough. Hannibal was far from oblivious, after all. “But yeah… I’m a bit surprised to find myself here, really.”

He took a breath, closing his eyes for a second, just to let the moment sink in.

He was standing in his old home, where he and Alana had once lived. He wondered if her ghost ever walked these halls. He wondered if she’d recognize him, if it did. And his old friend was here, welcoming him. He was thankful that Hannibal seemed to have no intention of turning him in. He, at least, had to believe him…

Will Graham. Well, that was certainly easy enough to adapt to. It even suited him. Hannibal watched the lines of Will's face relax when the man closed his eyes, taking in how he'd changed over the years. The darkness under his eyes, the lines that came with age...even still, he looked older than Hannibal felt he should.

"Come with me, Mr. Graham. I have something for you." Hannibal led the way over to the shop's side door, the one that connected with the stairs leading to the upper apartment.

Will followed, curious. He recognized where they were going, and he couldn’t help but wonder how much Hannibal had left the same, since he’d come into possession of it. How much had changed. Had Hannibal ended up here right away? Had he preserved anything?

His mind was assaulted with memory after memory as he walked familiar steps.

Hannibal opened the door to the upper level, smiling at the faint sound of the bell. Everything was pristine, as he regularly cleaned the room so as not to allow dust to settle despite the disuse. There was a bed still, in the corner, the vanity where Will had done his barber work, the chair, and... Will's razors. Pure silver.

They'd come to claim them, of course, but he'd purchased them with the room, on the off chance that... well, something like what was happening right now happened.

Hannibal stepped aside to allow the other to take it all in, preparing himself for an outward display of emotion. He was sure being up here would remind Will of Alana. He doubted the man had had time to properly mourn. He'd have to be supportive while Will began the process of getting over her. He looked forward to taking care of the other…

Will inhaled sharply, surprised at just how hard it was to tell that time had passed. It was like he’d just been forced to leave it yesterday. Like he’d never left at all. Like Alana was still alive. Just in the next room, while he moved about his work place.

He walked to the vanity, picking the familiar box that housed his razors, caressing it with his fingers.

He’d used to clean and sharpen them almost religiously, for the best, most effective cuts. He wondered if Hannibal had ever opened the box, checked in on them, cared for them… As long as they weren’t used or exposed to the elements, it didn’t matter, but to imagine them sitting idly in a box for years, just waiting for him to come home… Well, it was a good thing that razors weren’t sentient.

He took the razors out, taking a moment to feel them, inspect them, keeping one in his hand as he moved farther in. Found his and Alana’s bedroom. Found the room they’d been preparing for their unborn child. A cradle that had never, and now, would never, be used.

Alana would never join him in the halls, or in their room again. Would never worry about him.

And somewhere, her murderer still walked freely through the streets…

His grip tightened on the handle of the razor, tears flowing as anger and despair crashed over him.

Hannibal was prepared, when he saw the liquid ease down Will's cheeks. He fixed his expression into one of appropriate sadness, needing to remember the moment he'd heard that Will was being accused of Alana's murder to overcome the joy he felt at the man's return to do so.

He rested a comforting hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

It took Will a few seconds to find his voice again, to remember exactly where and when he was. “Thank you, Hannibal… You’ve obviously taken care of the place…”

Hannibal tried not to swell too obviously with pride, taking a moment, before letting his hand fall from the other's shoulder. "Perhaps it's just the romantic in me, but I was never quite able to give up the hope that you might be released one day. Proven innocent. I never believed you were the one to..." He paused to swallow, to look away, letting the sadness deepen on his face. "Kill Alana..."

He and Alana had been friends. Some part of him even missed her, in a way. But he could not entirely bring himself to lament her death.

Will shuddered when her name was said aloud. “Well…I’m glad someone believes in me, at least,” he said, just a tad bitterly. He shook his head, breathing a sigh as he turned to face the other. “You can show me around the areas you’ve changed a bit tomorrow, if you’d like…For now though, I think I need some rest.”

Hannibal nodded. "It's good to see you, Will," he said sincerely. He lingered, to give the other a small smile, and then forced himself to leave the room, closing the door behind him and taking a few steps down the stairs.

He paused then, to breathe, the muscles in his face relaxing as joy flooded him.

Will was back. And, if Hannibal played his cards right, he would be his, very soon.

Alana had never been right for him. There was a darkness that lingered in that man, a darkness Alana would have never stopped probing, questioning, a darkness she would never have been able to accept. Not like he could. He'd felt the connection with Will from the very first time Alana introduced them.

He would show Will how he could trust him... show him how good of a friend he could be. And then... well, the possibilities were endless.

-

Hannibal woke with a smile on his lips. He did his usual morning stretches, and then cooked a large breakfast, putting out a sign that declared the shop closed for the day, so he could help Will get settled back in. He woke Will up to eat, cleaning up the kitchen while he did so, having already eaten himself. They could have dinner together, but right now he didn't want to overwhelm Will with company.

While Hannibal woke in good spirits, Will woke feeling incredibly sore. It had been such a long time since his body had been able to relax while he slept. To have some measure of comfort. It wasn’t used to it, and now, now that it was being forced to remember the old ways, it emphasized just how tense and worn his body had become. 

Nonetheless, he felt a bit better. More grounded.

After a bit of breakfast, Will got out his razors to clean and sharpen while Hannibal moved about the kitchen. He eyed their blades, shining in the glint of sunlight from the window.

Hannibal couldn't help but admire the smooth silver, eyelids lowering.

*These were my friends

See how they glisten

See this one shine

How it smiles in the light

My friend…

My faithful friend…

Speak to me, friend

Whisper, I’ll listen

I know, I know

You’ve been locked out of sight

All these years

Like me, my friends

Well I’ve come home

To find you waiting

Home, and we’re together

And we’ll do wonders

Won’t we?*

Will's words of love for his razors flowed through Hannibal's head. He couldn't help but think the last ones could have been directed at him, as well. He had waited for Will all this time, and he would have waited longer still.

Will had put himself in a sort of trance, as he remembered doing quite often, when concentrating fully on his work. All that existed in that moment was him, and the razors.

*There there, my friend

I’ll warm you up, my friend

I won’t put you aside

We’ve only just began*

Hannibal watched the other, gone off into his own head, as he so often had.

'I'm your friend too,' he thought to himself, blinking slowly and turning his attention back to the warm, soapy dishwater. 'If you only knew...'

He'd always had a fondness for Will. They were friends yes, but he doubted that Will knew just how high of a regard he'd held him in. 

Will stared at the nearly surgically sharp blade for a second longer before closing it, carefully folding it back in the protective cloth.

*Rest now, my friend

Soon I’ll unfold you

Soon you’ll know pleasures

That you were never made for

My lucky friends…*

Will sucked in a breath as he slowly came out of his trance, breathing a sigh, before letting his gaze flicker over to Hannibal, considering. “Can I ask you something?”

Hannibal paused, looking over at Will at the serious tone in his voice. "Of course," he answered, tilting his head curiously. Will wouldn't have to worry any longer. Hannibal would give him the above room at no charge—it wasn't likely he had any money yet, regardless- and begin the process of rekindling their relationship. Will remembered him, which meant his regard couldn't be entirely one-sided.

“You know I didn’t kill her, but…do you have any thoughts on who might have..?”

Hannibal visibly controlled his reaction, face remaining blank as he analyzed, and considered the best response. Deciding it was worry, he dried his hands on his apron, walking over towards Will. "Will...are you sure you want me to answer that?" His fingers grazed the edge of the table. "I'd hate for you to do something you'll regret…" 

Will nodded. “If you know anything, then I want to know.” He’d try to keep his worst impulses in check, but…he needed revenge. For Alana. For all those wasted years of his life…

Hannibal looked away, projecting indecision, before he slowly slid into the seat across from Will. He let out a soft breath. "...Did you not find it odd, how quickly you were convicted of your crime?" He said carefully, slowly dragging his eyes up to meet Will. "With purely circumstantial evidence, no less..."

*You were a barber with his wife

and she was beautiful*

Hannibal wet his lips, spinning his tale with care.

*A good man living a good life

But they transported you for life

Because she was beautiful...*

Will _had_ found it a bit odd, now that he mentioned it…He’d dismissed it as a horrid case of the legal system being absolute shit.

He leaned in, listening, and as Hannibal went on, he felt his blood boiling with rage.

"There's something you should know. I...should have told you before, but Alana begged me not to."

*Didn't want to worry you, you see

Sweet little thing, loved you to bits

But someone started to tug on her strings

Poor thing...

Poor thing...*

He closed his eyes, shaking his head.

*There was this judge, you see

Wanted her like mad

Every time that you were away

He'd visit and make excuses to stay

Poor thing

But there was worse yet to come, poor thing...

I say 'visit' just to be polite

Poor thing

Poor thing

The judge, you see just was not quite right

I begged her to tell you of her plight

She said the judge might ruin your life

Poor thing, poor thing* 

He gave Will a sympathetic look, swallowing, his eyes shimmering with tears.

*Of course had I known what he planned

Poor thing

I'd have tried to do something more...

But no one could know, poor dear, poor thing

Just how much he wanted poor thing poor thing

The judge went too far, one day, poor thing

"How could you Judge Mason," she asked

He told her to leave

Oh, why didn't I see

She wasn't a match for such power, you see

And when she refused I believe...

Judge Mason grew angry and mad, you see

So he took a knife to her throat, you see

Poor soul...

Poor thing…*

 

Why hadn’t she told him?! He could have… Yes, the judge could send him away, but, he knew he could have protected her. Helped her keep her dignity, spared her the terror and despair. He wished Hannibal, at least, had told him what was happening to his wife, but, if it was against her wishes…

No.

He wet his lips, closing his eyes as a chill ran down his spine. “Then he’s the one who has to pay for what happened…”

Hannibal suppressed his smile at the bloodthirsty look on Will's face, folding his hands on the table. "How do you intend to make him pay, Will?"

“I’d like to give him the same fate he gave Alana, if possible…” Will admitted, opening his eyes and turning them to look at Hannibal, wondering what the man may think of him, of the confession.

It was better than he could have ever hoped for. Hannibal stared at Will for a moment, as he contained himself, pleased with how the darkness had grown and evolved, even outside of his watchful eye. Will was closer to being his than he knew.

Hannibal blinked slowly, and inhaled, giving a nod. "That seems... only fitting." He did not want to scare Will away with eagerness. Slowly... gradually, he would open up more possibilities to him, he had to let Will evolve by himself, no pushing.

Oh, how he'd missed him. Missed this. Missed their potential. Now it would finally have a chance to be fully realized.

There was something that felt just a bit off about Hannibal’s reaction, but Will quickly dismissed it as natural, given what he’d just proposed. Hannibal was fearful, but trying to support him. The support was the only part that mattered.

“I wonder if Mason needs a shave…”

Hannibal's lips moved briefly into an abstract smile. "Everyone needs a shave." Hannibal leaned back in his seat, considering. He watched Will's face, his expression turning neutral. Then, before the man could get uncomfortable for being stared at, he leaned in, resting his elbows on the table. "Will...if you are serious about this, then I can say without hesitation that I will help you with whatever you need. You are my friend...and so was Alana. Rest assured I want to see justice done almost as much as you."

He wet his lips, shifting in his seat. "It will take time...patience. Planning. But if we are careful, the judge could be in your chair one day, voluntarily." That would be the easiest way to commit the crime, after all.

Yes. Hannibal was supporting him.

Will nodded, relieved, glad that they were planning. He needed this. “I wonder if he’d recognize me… Planning’s all well and good, but he’s not going to come willingly if he knows who I am. Odds are he’d send me right back on the soonest available ship.” 

Hannibal smiled. "So, we make your new alias well established. I have some ideas about that as well..." He was positive that a man like Mason Verger wouldn't remember Will's face. The man had found Alana attractive yes, but his focus on her husband was nearly nonexistent. No, there wouldn't be a problem there. Will looked just different enough, too, to act as proper camouflage. Hiding in plain sight.

“I’d be happy to hear them,” Will said, eager, actually lifting his gaze to make eye contact with Hannibal. 

Hannibal tilted his head, enjoying the way Will looked up at him, like he held all the answers. "Go have a bath and get ready to leave, while I clean up the kitchen. We can talk on the way to the market." He stood, moving back over to the sink with a confident stride.

First they'd need to replenish Will's tonsorial supplies. There could be no barber shop without them, after all, and no advertising without a shop.

Will nodded, standing and going to do just that. It would be nice to have a bath that wasn’t in sea water…

-

Hannibal finished tidying up, then changed into something a little more appropriate for going out, making sure his hair was styled carefully, and checking the fit of his suit in the mirror before he met Will to leave once he was ready.

“Has the market changed a lot since I’ve been away?” Will asked conversationally on the way.

"In some ways," Hannibal responded, flashing a smile at one of his neighbors as they meandered by. "In others it is quite the same. Know the right people, use the right words, and you'll find yourself paying quite a different price." That had been a great help to his business, when he was first starting out. He knew how to read people, how to manipulate them. He could be quite charming, when he wanted, and he was handsome, if a little aged at this point in life.

Will nodded. He’d never been good at that sort of thing… He just wasn’t the charming, social type. He was sure things were quite different for Hannibal.

He froze when he spotted a familiar figure amongst the crowd, eyes narrowing, following Cordell as he moved between the stands of the market, inspecting the goods. He could feel his muscles tensing. Cordell had to have been involved with Alana’s murder… But he needed him alive, to get to Mason. Unfortunately.

Maybe in due time, he could punish Cordell, too…

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, turning his attention to a large, mobile staged, attached to a wagon in the center of the market. A crowd had gathered. What was going on there, he wondered.

Hannibal frowned slightly when he noticed Will break off from the path, and it wasn't hard to find what had drawn his attention. He let out a light sigh, following the other, knowing he'd have to explain the merits of patience to his friend.

He rested a hand on the other's shoulder, seeing the irritation painted on his face. "Will," he said, to get the other's attention, and then gestured to the wagon that everyone was gathering around. "I wanted you to see this. This man, Adolfo Pirelli, claims to be the best barber in London. He's a complete sham of course, but he gets business because people know his name. If you challenge him, then they'll know your name, too."

He waited a moment, before making his hand drop from the other's shoulder, like he'd forgotten it was there.

“Adolfo Pirelli?” Must be someone new. He certainly didn’t recognize that name.

He raised his eyebrow when a young woman walked out on the stage, having to assume that she wasn’t Adolfo Pirelli, unless times had changed a _lot_  since he’d been gone.

*Ladies and gentlemen

May I have your attention please?

Do you wake every morning in shame and despair

To discover your pillow is covered with hair

What ought not to be there?

Well, ladies and gentlemen

From now on you can waken with ease

You need never again have a worry or care

I will show you a miracle marvelous rare

Gentlemen, you are about to see something

What rose from the dead on the top of my head*

The girl pulled off her bonnet to show off long, curly blonde hair. She tossed it gently, and then continued on, obviously trying to sell this elixir to the crowd.

*’Twas Pirelli's Miracle elixir

That's what did the trick, sir

True, sir, true, was it quick, sir?

Did it in a tick, sir

Just like an elixir ought to do

How about a bottle, mister?

Only costs a penny, guaranteed*

The girl knelt down, uncorking the little gold bottle and pouring a little onto the man in front’s bald head. She watched as he began to rub it in, encouraging him with a gentle smile.

*Does Pirelli's stimulate the growth, sir?

You can have my oath, sir

'Tis unique, rub a minute

Stimulating, isn’t it?

Soon you'll have to thin it

Once a week*

The crowd began to pass around the bottle to look at, and Will wrinkled his nose. Such an obvious trick.

Hannibal accepted the bottle when it was handed to him, screwing off the top. "What is this?" He said, raising an eyebrow. He'd noticed the first time he saw this little charade just what the trick was. He hadn't cared to expose the man before, preferring not to make enemies, but this was for Will. "Smells like... urine."

He handed the bottle over to Will with an innocent look on his face.

Will scrunched his face up even more. “Now that you mention it, that is a familiar stench, isn’t it…”

*Buy Pirelli's Miracle elixir

Anything what's slick, sir

Soon sprouts curls, try Pirelli's

When they see how thick, sir

You can have your pick, sir, of the girls* 

The girl winked at one man, and then offered one to a woman with thin hair.

“Is that really what this is..?” Will asked, examining the bottle. He could definitely see and smell urine, and something else… “Yeah. This is piss. Piss and ink. I certainly wouldn’t recommend anyone buy this…”

The girl frowned, overhearing Will, and worrying that he’d ruin things, she kept going, hoping they’d ignore him.

*Let Pirelli’s activate your roots, sir

Yes, get Pirelli’s, use a bottle of it

I can say the ladies love it!*

“Flies do too.”

Hannibal grinned when Will noticed the other acting ingredient, looking up at the girl on the stage, who seemed to have noticed that they were causing a stir.His lips twitched at Will's little comment, and he looked up when suddenly a curtain concealing the inside of the wagon was tossed aside.

A man with ridiculous looking facial hair and an obvious sense of self-importance stepped out.

The girl visibly flinched.

*IIIIIIIIIIIII am Adolfo Pirelli

The king of the barbers

The barber of kings 

E buon giorno, good day!

I blow you a kiss!*

He did so, and Hannibal watched him impassively, the undeserved arrogance rather grating on his nerves.

*And IIIIIIIIIII

the so famous Pirelli

I wish-a to know-a

Who has-a the nerve-a to say

My elixir is piss* 

He took a step closer to the edge of the little stage he stood on, beady eyes scanning the crowd.

*Who says this?*

Will simply raised an eyebrow, and then his hand, more than willing to take ownership of his claim. He was pretty sure he recognized this man from somewhere, but… he couldn’t say he recognized the name in the slightest. He knew the face though, even if only vaguely. “That would be me.”

Pirelli scowled at the hand that raised in the crowd, stepping closer. "Oh, and what do you know about my sacred work?" He let out a little scoff, waving a hand. "Step away sir, before you embarrass yourself."

Hannibal could tell the man was nervous about being discovered. He looked at Will, wondering how he'd respond.

“I know more about it than you do, certainly,” Will replied, moving closer, remembering what Hannibal had told him. “I’m Will Graham. And I’d wager that I could shave a cheek more quickly and cleanly than some fraud trying to pass off piss and ink as a miracle any day.”

Pirelli bristled, looking around at all the curious faces. He forced a smile. "You hear this foolish man? Watch as he regret-a his-a folly. Abigail!" He clapped his hands, glaring at the girl and waiting for her to get his things ready.

Hannibal's lips twitched. "If someone is getting a free shave, I'd be happy to volunteer.”

Abigail flinched again, and then hurried off to go get Pirelli’s things, hoping that he could, indeed, beat this mystery challenger. Otherwise, he might end up beating her, instead.

Will looked over at Hannibal, nodding. “Do we have another volunteer for Pirelli?”

After all, he couldn’t very well let this hack supposed barber butcher his friend’s face.

Hands in the crowd immediately shot up, and Hannibal slid neatly into one of the chair's the girl, Abigail set out, crossing his legs and giving her a pleasant smile. "Thank you dear." He folded his hands in his lap, predator eyes watching Pirelli showboat around. The girl was showing classic signs of abuse, that was clear. It irritated him to see, especially in a young woman who was obviously a talented manipulator.

Another man was chosen to be Pirelli's freebie, and he hopped on stage as well, sitting down eagerly. Hannibal scanned the crowd, pleased to see Beadle Cordell watching. "Why not have the Beadle judge this little contest?" He suggested, looking up to Will with a smile. 

Will nodded. “Beadle, if you would..?” he requested with all the fake politeness he could muster, bowing his head to the man he hoped to someday see in his chair, almost as much as Mason himself.

The man, though just a bit surprised, nodded, moving closer to the stage, so he could see more clearly.

Abigail handed Pirelli his things, and after making sure the challenger had tools as well, moved to stand just out of the man’s way, to assist him as he shaved. Of course, first she knew the man would have to sharpen his shaving blades… She hoped he would at least _try_  to stop it short this time.

“The fastest, smoothest shave, is the winner. Are you ready?” Cordell asked.

Will nodded again. And once the sham gave his confirmation as well, Cordell blew the whistle, signaling the start of their contest.

Hannibal leaned his head back, closing his eyes and leaving himself to Will's mercy.

Pirelli smiled at the crowd, moving to arrange his tools the way he liked them- damn girl never could do it right. Then he picked up his razors, opening the straight-blade theatrically, before waving at Abigail to get her to hold the leather straight as he began to sharpen them. 

*Now, signorini, signori

We mix-a the lather

But first-a

You gather around, signorini, signori

You looking a man who have

had-a the glory to shave-a the Pope!*

He mixed the lather, sending a sneer to his challenger.

*Mr. Graham, whoever

I beg-a you pardon

You'll probably say

it was only a cardinal

Nope!

It was-a the Pope!*

Abigail, on cue, fetched the paper scroll featuring an etching of the Pope, along with a ‘signature’ from him, displaying it to the audience. 

Will, meanwhile, having already sharpened his razor that morning, simply gave it one or two runs down the sharpener for the sake of the audience, and to kill time, boredly watching the blowhard braggart go about his business. He intended to do this in the most humiliating way possible. The most impressive. Of course, he had to wait until Pirelli got his ego so inflated that he didn’t even notice until it was already too late. 

Pirelli started to lather the man's face, sloppily spreading the foam around with his brush in quick, circular motions.

*To shave-a the face

To cut-a the hair

Require the grace

Require the flair

For if-a you slip

You nick the skin

You clip-a the chin

You rip-a the lip a bit

Beyond-a repair*

He took his razor, flashily shaving a line down the other's jaw, sending a smile to the audience.

Hannibal was finding the man's boasting tiring, particularly because he'd seen some of his shaves, and knew they weren't anything to brag about. Quite the contrary, really.

He focused instead on anticipating Will's hands handling those blades, so very close to the delicate skin of his throat. Pirelli was right after all, one nick, and it was over. Hannibal always preferred to do his own shaving, there was no reason to show that sort of vulnerability to a stranger. Will though, Will was without a doubt the best barber he'd ever seen. He had strong, capable hands, and Hannibal was more than happy to put his life in them.

*To shave-a the face

Or even a part

Without it-a smart

Require the heart* 

Pirelli continued shaving, content to take his time, since it didn't even appear that the Graham man had started.

*Not just-a the flash

It take-a panache

It take-a the passion for the art

To shave-a the face

To trim-a the beard

To make-a the bristle

Clean like a whistle

This is from early infancy

The talent give to me

By God* 

He snuck another glance at Graham, smirking. This wasn't even going to be a contest.

Will examined his razor, breathing softly on the blade to warm it. He continued fiddling around with it for a few more seconds, letting Pirelli ramble on in the background about how great he supposedly was, even though a quick glance at his poor gentleman’s face was more than enough to tell Will all he needed to know on the matter.

Eventually, he got around to mixing his own lather, applying it carefully, with a practiced expertise that had not dulled with time, gently, cleanly.

Hannibal swallowed as the lather was brushed delicately over his cheeks, keeping his eyes closed. Will rarely touched him. Before, he'd been a very private person. Hannibal had probed his defenses carefully, and had considered it a great victory the first time he'd attempted to place a hand on Will's shoulder, and the man hadn't flinched away. Since then he'd given the man many casual touches, friendly touches, but Will had never reciprocated. It didn't bother him, but he was certainly more aware of it, in this moment.

Once Will he was sure he’d covered all the skin that need be covered, he set the lather down, idly adjusting Hannibal’s head to look busy, tilting it to his preferred angle, and after making sure he was comfortable, he got his razor out to fiddle with again, preparing himself for when he deemed it time to start. 

Pirelli began shaving a bit faster, eager to end the competition and take his money.

*It take-a the skill

It take-a the brains

It take-a da will

To take-a the pains

It take-a the pace

It take-a the GRAAAAAAAAAAACE….*

Well, now was as good a time as ever.Will swiped the razor across Hannibal’s face in firm, confident strokes, wrist moving at just the right times and to just the right angles that the pressure and position was never enough to break the skin. In a few, short seconds, the little bit of light stubble Hannibal had had was gone, his face clean, and he stepped back so Cordell could see, his expression remaining blank.

“The winner is Graham,” Beadle Cordell announced when he saw the man’s work, a bit surprised. And he could see the stunned faces on the crowd, as well.

Abigail’s eyes widened. Oh god… And just when she’d had hope…It would be good to see the man brought down a peg or two, but…she knew he’d end up taking it out on her, so she wouldn’t be able to enjoy that for long.

Hannibal, aware of what Will was capable of, was hardly surprised when the shave was over almost before it began. He ran a hand over his face, pleased with how smooth he found it. Closer than he could get, himself. He gave Will a smile, standing from his seat.

The audience applauded, and Pirelli twitched, turning to face Graham. He wanted to be outraged, an argument on his tongue, but then he saw the razors.

Oh so familiar razors.

"...Sir," he said, ignoring the protests of the man behind him with half a shaved face. "I must concede to the better barber."

He reached into his pocket, taking out a £5 note and placing it in the man's hand. "I hope to see you again, one day." Maybe sooner than he thought. One more smile, and then he turned, giving the crowd a good-natured shrug. Once his back was to them, the look dropped off his face. "Come, Abigail, we're packing up for the day." He gave her a glare that promised what would happen if she didn't clean up fast enough, stomping back inside the wagon.

Abigail grimaced, quickly moving to do as she’d been told. He knew better than to hurt her in front of a crowd, but… that crowd was quickly dispersing…

Hannibal watched this display, tilting in this head. "Perhaps it's just my gentle heart, but I hate to see that poor girl treated that way." He let out a light sigh, redirecting his attention to Will. "Wonderful job. My face is as soft as a baby's bottom." He gave a playful smile. 

Will pocketed the note, nodding to Pirelli, before turning his attention to Hannibal, when the other spoke. “Thank you, but, a stag such as yourself probably shouldn’t be admitting to touching a lot of baby’s bottoms in public.” His lips twitched at his own, practically monotone joke.

Hannibal's smile grew into a more genuine one than he might usually allow in public.

“A good contest, Mr. Graham,” a man said, approaching, reaching out to shake his hand, which Will reluctantly allowed, thought he pulled it back and wiped it surreptitiously on his pant leg as soon as he was able to. “I don’t suppose you have your own establishment?”

Hannibal stepped closer to Will, resting his hands on the man's shoulders. "He certainly does. Above my restaurant, Florence Whispers, on Fleet Street. It will be open within the week." His good humor was admittedly more because of the surreptitious way Will had wiped his hands than the good advertising.

Will nodded his head, confirming Hannibal’s words as true.

“Above Florence Whispers, on Fleet Street… I’ll have to be sure to make my way over there sometime this week then,” the man said, smiling and nodding his head to them as he went on his way. 

Good. Hannibal’s plan to advertise him had worked well. Of course, there were patrons of more importance, in his mind’s eye…

He approached the Beadle, who was standing nearby, and nodded to him in greeting, expression blank. “I thank you, for judging the contest with integrity,” he said, watching the man, searching his eyes for signs of recognition. Thankfully, there seemed to be no such light to be found there.

“I do my best. You say your establishment is on Fleet Street?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’ll likely see me there, before the week is out.”

Will’s heart beat a little faster with anticipation. “You’ll be welcomed there, Beadle Cordell. I promise you to give you the closest shave you’ll ever know. Free of charge.”

Cordell nodded and then went on his way, as well.

Hannibal was all too amused. He wet his lips, watching the man walk away. "...The closest shave he'll ever know?" He quoted, trying not to sound _too_  amused by the pun. He was still playing the role of "reluctant but supportive friend" after all. 

“Well I couldn’t very well say the deepest, now could I?” Will said, able to tell Hannibal found it at least a little funny. Hopefully he’d keep his good humor once there was actual blood spilt. He was tempted to follow the Beadle, impatient, wanting to follow him until he went directly to Mason, and then descend on the both of them.

It would be foolish, he knew, but…impulses were impulses.

Hannibal gave Will a fond look, while his attention was directed on the Beadle, and then turned to continue into the market. "Come. Let's get your supplies while it's still early.”

Will nodded distractedly, hesitating for a couple seconds more before turning to follow Hannibal to wherever they needed to go.

-

“You should be ready to open soon," Hannibal mused, looking around. He'd been helping Will turn the place into a functional barbershop over the last week, taking care of the little details that Will himself wasn't likely to worry about. Things like curtains, and a flower box. He crossed his legs, letting out a content sigh from his place in Will's chair.

It truly had been nice, having company around lately. He'd run the restaurant as usual, but closed early to help Will get his own shop ready. The extra work was tiring, but rewarding.

“You think?” Will asked, looking around the shop. He still had to polish the floors up a bit, but, aside from that, he did think it looked rather nice and professional. If he could actually get away with the murders he had planned, it would be a nice place to continue working in, once he’d had his revenge and found some measure of peace.

"Oh yes," Hannibal said, directing his smile to Will. "And I would like to reserve a spot as your first customer.”

“Of course. You’ll get all the free shaves you want, given how generous you’ve been in letting me come back to live here again,” Will said, nodding. “And all the food. I’m starting to worry you’re trying to fatten me up like a Christmas turkey.”

Hannibal's lips quirked up higher, before he lowered his eyes in faux bashfulness. "It's the least I can do, after all you've been through, Will." He stood, idly walking over to inspect the curtains, admiring the pop of color they brought to the room. "Or maybe I just like having someone to spoil," he teased.

“You get lonely here?” Will asked, wondering if he was getting in the way of any sort of regular rendezvous the other might be used to.

Hannibal turned, eyes directed at the wall. "Everyone gets lonely sometimes." Him less than most, probably. It was difficult to be lonely when most people you saw were...so very rude.

"After the tragedy, I mostly kept to myself, and my business." He meandered over to Will, sympathy floating in his eyes as he watched the other's face. "I can't imagine how lonely you must have been, though.”

Will hummed, looking away, the other’s gaze a bit too prying for him. “Surrounded by people, and yet, all alone, in my mind. I think I liked it that way though.”

"Oh?" Hannibal stopped where he was, taking the way Will looked away as an indication he should try a different tactic. "Well, be sure to let me know if you need time to yourself." Hannibal studied the barber, wetting his lips. "Will...I'm your friend. If there's anything I can do for you...anything at all, my door is always open." A smile, and then he broke the serious atmosphere that had fallen by stepping back, moving towards the door. "Now, why don't I make us some lunch.”

“Thanks… Yeah, I’d appreciate that,” Will said, looking back up at the other and nodding his head, at the mention of lunch. “Hopefully I won’t end up having to ask too much of you.”

Hannibal smiled. "You won't."

A knock on the door drew his attention, and Hannibal turned, surprised to see the face waiting behind the little glass window. He walked over and opened it. "Well, long time no see."

Adolfo Pirelli gave him a smile that looked more like a sneer.

"Here on business?" Hannibal questioned, looking at the girl standing behind him. "I was just about to have lunch. Perhaps your assistant wouldn't mind assisting me, for a time? There will be a delicious meal in it for her."

"Whatever you want," Pirelli said, waving a hand.

Hannibal's eyes wrinkled at the corners. "Come, my dear...Abigail, was it?”

Abigail returned the smile wearily, nodding her head, to confirm the name. Honestly, she was surprised he remembered.

Hannibal stepped past them to lead the way down into his shop, wondering what business Pirelli had with Will.

Pirelli man stepped into the barber shop, offering a smarmy smile. "We meet again, Mr. Graham.”

Will was surprised when the familiar, annoying man stepped in, turning to face him, raising an eyebrow. “Unfortunately, it seems so. Did you come for a shave? The shop’s not open just yet, but…”

"Not quite," Pirelli said, dropping the Italian accent. He shrugged off his coat, smiling. "Allow me to introduce myself. Fredrick Chilton's the name, when it's not professional." He tilted his head, wondering if the man would recognize it.

 

Huh. He’d  _thought_  the accent had sounded too overdone and ridiculous to be real. Everything about this guy was fake, apparently.

“It sounds vaguely more familiar than Adolfo Pirelli, but it’s not ringing any major bells,” Will said, giving the other an unimpressed look, wondering what his business here was. Maybe, if he was bothering with this, he just recognized him from his previous life…That wouldn’t be good. What would he do about that though, if it was the case..?

He tensed just a little, but tried to keep that hidden. 

"Doesn't surprise me," Chilton said, straightening out his coat. "But, you'd do well to remember it from now on. You see, I'll be taking half your profits from this moment on...Mr. William Ravenstag.” 

Will’s eyes narrowed a little. “Is that so..?”

He couldn’t have that… Couldn’t have someone blackmailing him, someone with the potential to ruin everything he was planning on… “I suppose free shaves would be part of that then, wouldn’t it? Maybe it would even improve your business. I wouldn’t expect any less from a man like you.”

 

Chilton beamed, pleased to see that his blackmail scheme had gone off so easily. "Yes, that's right, a man like me... you don't remember me, but I'm not surprised. I only worked here for a couple weeks, sweeping up hair." Chilton sat down in the barber chair with a flourish, looking around the old shop, taking in how it had changed, and how it stayed the same. It looked like it had a woman's touch, now. 

"You might say you were...inspiration. And look at us now." He smirked. 

Will hummed, moving to stand behind Chilton when he sat in the chair. He wondered if he should take that as an invitation… “Your face looked just a tiny bit familiar, I suppose,” he said, trying to sound resigned, defeated, bitter. That last one was easy, given it was the only one of the three that was true.

He thought to grab his razors, but, he didn’t want to dirty any of them with this man’s blood.

How dare this man try to blackmail him…And after he’d been so kind as to employ him, those years ago…He slid his hands onto Chilton’s shoulders.

Chilton chuckled, crossing his legs. "Well, we can work out the particul-" Chilton gagged when he felt pressure around his windpipe, his immediate response to struggle. Will was strong, though, stronger than he looked. He couldn't get away. He flailed in the seat, squirming, unable even to cry out for help.

Will squeezed hard, until he felt the other’s windpipe close beneath his hands.The chair was in the way, and from this angle, Chilton’s flailing would occasionally cause his heel to collide with the floor. Being sure to keep his hands securely in place, locked on the man’s throat, Will shifted until he was able to drag him out of the chair, playing him on the ground. He crossed his calves over Chilton’s ankles to hold them down, squeezing tight, watching the man’s face so he’d know when he lost consciousness.

Will kept his hands where they were even after Chilton sank into unconsciousness, intent on keeping his grip tight until he stopped feeling the pulse beating beneath his fingers. 

Will faltered when he heard someone climbing the steps, slowly letting go and climbing to his feet, fingers twitching before curling into a fist, ready, just in case.

- 

Hannibal hummed as he opened the door, moving straight to the kitchen. "All right...I have soup, almost prepared. How good are you with a knife?" He asked, giving the girl a pleasant smile and getting some vegetables to lay out on the counter. 

“I don’t know,” Abigail admitted, watching curiously. “I cook for Mr. Pirelli sometimes, but, I don’t know if I’m comparatively any good or not.” Figuring Pirelli would likely be a while, and not wanting to cook while wearing something hot and itchy, she reached up to gently tug the blonde wig from her head, ruffling her fingers against her own, natural brunette hair to adjust it, after having it curled up tightly against her head for so long.

"I'm sure you'll do a marvelous job." Hannibal flipped the blade with a fancy gesture so it was facing her handle side, lips twitching when she revealed her natural hair underneath the wig. "Why on earth does that man have you cover up your hair? It's so pretty."

Abigail’s lips twitched into a timid smile. “Well… I guess he thinks thick, curly blonde hair will sell hair tonic better than plain brown, straight hair would…”

She kind of agreed, really.

"Still a shame." He placed the knife in her hand, nodding to the onions and carrots he'd set near his cutting board. "Chop those, please," he instructed, while he moved to warm up the soup, maybe add a few more things to enhance the flavor.

Abigail nodded her head. “Yes, sir,” she said, moving to do as she’d been told. It was nice to hear a "please" for once.

Hannibal moved about the kitchen, happy to prepare the meal for Will, and their current houseguest. Abigail didn't appear to be too shabby with a knife, after all. "How did you come to work for Pirelli?" He asked conversationally, eying the bandages on her hands.

 “I’m an orphan. When you’re just a lowly street urchin, you’re happy if anyone’s willing to take you in, feed you and give you work, I suppose,” Abigail explained. She glanced up when she thought she heard a noise from upstairs, tilting her head. “I wonder what that could be…”

"I see." Hannibal tilted his head, looking up at the noise. "I hope they're not scratching the hardwood up there." He listened, but the small thumping noise gradually quietened, and he turned his attention back to Abigail. "Why don't you keep chopping, and I'll let them know lunch will be ready soon. Add them to the pot once you finish, hmm?" 

He washed his hands, drying them on a towel before heading out the door, towards the stairs.

Hannibal pushed open the door, the smile on his face fading at the sight that greeted him. "...Will," he said, closing the door behind him, eyes staring at the body sprawled out on the floor. "...I trust Pirelli didn't just doze off, then." 

He'd thought Will would have better control than this…

Will frowned, tense shoulder muscles relaxing a bit, upon seeing who it was. His fist uncurled, though he remained ready to do what he had to, if Chilton woke up. “Turns out he’s actually an English man who used to work for me, when he was younger. He recognized me. Used that to try threatening me into giving him half of whatever I earned,” he explained, giving the man’s unconscious body a disgusted look.“He’s not dead.” Not yet, anyway… “What do you propose I do with him?”

Hannibal tilted his head, then looked at the body again. "Well, for a moment there I thought you'd lost your marbles." He took a few steps closer, seeing the bruising around Chilton's throat. Will had certainly made the right choice...a man like Chilton could be trouble. There was always the chance they could have scared him off...not anymore, however. He was spineless, but he'd definitely go to the law.

"Well, we can tell Abigail that he was called away. I was thinking of hiring her to help me run the restaurant." It had only been a passing thought, but with Pirelli dead (or soon to be), it seemed like fate had made the decision for him. "As for the man himself... that's the throat to slit, I believe.”

Will nodded, a bit stunned that Hannibal was going along with this so readily. Was even suggesting he take it farther…

“What would we do with the body though? I can’t risk getting caught. At least not before I can get my hands on Mason…” he said, watching Chilton with cautious, weary eyes. If he moved, he’d kick his head in.

That was the golden question. Hannibal pretended to consider, frowning. They had (would soon have) a body that needed to be taken care of... the average person would be concerned. He paced, running a hand through his hair. "I... don't suppose he has any relatives that will come looking for him..." He sighed, looking atPirelli again, before turning away, moving to stand by the window. "We could take him someplace, bury him..." That was risky, though. Will would know that. Hannibal stiffened, turning, staring once more at the body on the floor.

Will nodded in distracted agreement with the first thought, but he found himself frowning at the second. They’d have to carry him through the streets for that…How would they hide him? Where would they even bury him, where there was no chance of someone’s hounds sniffing him out?

"It...

*Seems a downright shame…*

Will's brow furrowed, frown deepening. “Shame?” What did he mean?

Hannibal turned again, careful to keep his eyes away from Will, drawing more momentum for his idea as he went.

*Seems an awful... waste*

He stepped closer, projecting just a bit of shame, as he slid his hands into his pockets.

*Such a nice plump frame

Pirelli has...

Had.

...Has,

And it can't be traced...*

He wet his lips, working out the best way to put it into words.

*It would be a little shift

No debts to erase

But, think of it as thrift, as a gift...

If you get my drift*

He gave Will a meaningful look, inhaling slowly. This suggestion had the potential to either propel things forward, or set back the progress he'd been making. He'd started, though. And, Will knew he'd always been a practical man. Logically speaking, this was the most efficient method to get rid of the body.

*Seems an awful waste...

Considering the price of meat these days

When you get it

...If you get it...*

Will blinked, eyes widening at the word "plump," not really liking where that thought was going. He tried to dismiss it as just a sick place his mind was in, and not actually what Hannibal meant, but…the more he went on… And the mention of meat prices just sealed the deal.

“…You can’t be serious…”

Hannibal nodded, resting his hands behind his back.

*Think about if we dragged the body out

How on earth would we ever get it through the streets?

This way there's not even evidence to leave

And I'm sure no one would recognize the taste*

Will made a face at the disgusting idea, but he had to admit that it made some sort of sense, no matter how sick. He’d had the same concerns after all. “What about the bones?”

Hannibal tried to keep the look of satisfaction off his face, aware that it was too much to ask for Will to find it immediately the best option. Of course he'd be hesitant. "The bones can be taken care of in plenty of ways. Ground, for instance." He turned away from the body, aware it would be odd for him to look too comfortable around the soon to be corpse. "I butcher most all my own meat, for the restaurant. I'm no stranger to disposing of used remains."

He closed his eyes briefly. "It's... certainly not orthodox, nor ideal, but it's the only way I can think of to ensure the crime won't be discovered...if you kill him." He turned to look at Will again, sure the man was aware of what would happen if he _didn't_  end Pirelli's life.

Will’s frown deepened, considering. He wondered if it would make people sick. Chickens would eat chicken if offered it, and meat was meat, generally speaking, but…it just seemed to him like the human body would somehow know, reject it, get sick…

Then again…What did he care about those people, when they didn’t care about him? The world was an awful place…It seemed almost fitting, really…Dog eat dog.

Man eat man…

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Maybe…” He thought he saw Chilton starting to stir, so he went to grab one of the sheets he used to keep hair off the customer, laying it out on the floor and dragging the man onto it. “…You said you butcher most of your own meat..? Do you have a drain for blood then?” 

Will was starting to consider it. Hannibal nodded, watching the other move his victim. "I do. In the basement.”

“Can you keep Abigail busy for me?” Will asked, wrapping Chilton up in the sheet, and then another, when the first wasn’t enough to cover the whole body. “I’ll take him down to the basement.” He tied the sheets around the other to make sure they wouldn’t slip, and then hoisted him up and over his shoulder, letting out a light grunt at the strain on his back.

Hannibal went still for a moment as he considered the last time he'd been in the basement, but he didn't think there was anything down there at the moment he'd be uncomfortable with Will seeing. "Of course."

Hannibal walked to the door, leaving it open for Will when he left, and heading down the stairs, back into the shop. 

"Sorry that took me so long," he said to the girl waiting, giving her a pleasant smile. "Pirelli was apparently called away for something, and I wanted to speak to Mr. Graham...about you." He strode over to the other room connected to the shop, gesturing for Abigail to follow him. "Will you come with me a moment?”

Will gave Hannibal a head start so he could get Abigail out of the way before carefully making his way downstairs. As much as his time in Australia had been a living hell, he was grateful that it’d made him physically stronger, at least. It made it easier to carry Chilton down to the basement, as he would soon be doing to Mason and Cordell. He wondered if he should feed one to the other before he killed him too…

He dropped Chilton to the floor, moving up to close the door securely behind him, before making his way back down to finish the job. He placed the sheets somewhere where they wouldn’t get stained, positioned Chilton over the drain, and then he found a knife. 

It made a satisfying noise as it cut through flesh, severed vital vessels, spilling blood as he pushed it down, hard, until he felt it scrape against the vertebrae in Chilton’s neck.

-

Abigail frowned, giving Hannibal a confused look. “He just…up and left? Why didn’t he come to get me first..?” she asked, following the man, when he asked. She didn’t understand…She didn’t think he considered her a person, no, but, she did have some value to him…Why leave her behind? And what had he had to talk to Mr. Graham about?

Hannibal gestured around his sitting room, a lovely little space. The piano was in the corner, and a table where he would entertain guests with tea, flanked by two comfortable couches. "This is my sitting room. It hardly gets much use now, though... I don't have much company these days." He sat down on one of the couches, gesturing to the other one. "I can't tell you why Pirelli left, but, I can't say it's not fortuitous for me... you see, I've been looking for someone to help me run the restaurant for some time now. My old bones aren't what they used to be." He gave a self-depreciating smile. "Since you have no place to stay, however, I thought perhaps this could be turned into your room, should you accept my offer.”

Abigail sat when Hannibal gestured for her to, looking around the room admiringly. It was very nice. She didn’t know many people in London who could really afford such luxuries.

She was a bit surprised at the idea of working here, rather than for Pirelli. It seemed nice. But, what really caught her by surprise, was the room, and the fact that she actually had a choice in the matter. Her eyes opened wide, looking around the room with an all new appreciation. “But, what about your things?” she asked, idly hoping he really meant it, that this wasn’t just some test of her complacency.

Why would he offer something so generous..? Even if they were for some reason looking to make a bride for one of them of her, there was no reason for that…

She clasped her hands together, squeezing lightly. “Where would you put your piano?”

Hannibal could tell she was already intrigued by the offer, even as her questions showed hesitance. "I have another room I could rearrange some things in...as for the piano, it would have to remain in here until I'm able to move it. Perhaps I could teach you how to play." With Will here, there was hardly any point in trying to keep what was left of his privacy. And, if he could convince Will to go through with it, he'd just be sure to keep Abigail well away from food preparation. She could do the dishes, clean the floors, wait the tables.

He tilted his head, wondering idly how his curiosity would pay off, this time. He was eager to see what would happen.

Abigail was still shocked and a bit suspicious of how generous the offer sounded, wondering what the catch was, but… even if it turned out the two were murderous demons or something, it sounded better than working for Pirelli, so how could she say no? 

“Alright,” she said, nodding, a tiny smile twitching at her lips as she dared to hope.

Hannibal nodded. "Wonderful." He stood, holding out a hand. "I am Hannibal Lecter. I'll pay you on the first of the month, you may keep any tips you are given, and do with your money what you wish. For the time being, I'll start you waiting tables and sweeping the floors. I trust that is satisfactory?”

Abigail nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Lecter.”

Hannibal smiled. "Just one thing. There's some equipment in the basement that can be dangerous if you don't know how to use it, so I must ask that you stay out of there until I've had an opportunity to train you properly.”

“Alright,” she agreed, nodding again. 

"Right. Shall we have lunch, then?”

“That sounds nice. Will Mr. Graham be joining us?” Abigail asked, curious as to where the other man was, since Pirelli had already left.

If I have anything to say about it," Hannibal mused. "I think he said he was going to the basement, he's been helping me tidy up down there..." Hannibal moved to the door, heading down the stairs.

Obviously Will had enough time to finish the job...he wondered what sight would await him, through those doors. He paused with his hand on the securely built metal door, wetting his lips, before tugging it open, and closing it firmly behind him.

It was as he'd imagined. Pirelli was long dead, blood oozing down into the drain that led into the sewers. He took in this sight, the deep wound on his neck, before his eyes found Will.

Will looked up when he heard footsteps, having gone into a bit of a trance as he’d watched the blood and life drain from the man’s body, just letting the simple fact that he’d just committed the same type of crime he’d been long ago accused of sink in. His hand tightened around the blade of the knife he’d only just realized was still in his hand, but upon seeing who it was, he hesitantly put it aside, blinking his eyes, trying to bring himself back into the present.

“…He’s dead…”

Hannibal's look of concern was real as he watched the glazed over look on Will's face. He waited until it faded, before walking closer, slowly reaching out and resting a hand on the side of Will's neck. "Are you all right?”

Will nodded a bit distractedly, aware of the hand on him, and a bit weary of it, but not enough to pull away from it. “…The first time I killed someone, it was in a fight, and he was a murderer, like I reportedly was.” It was different. Chilton was far from a saint, but, he didn’t think the man a murderer. Too spineless for that.

For years, he’d been surrounded by murderers and other assorted criminals. And those who weren’t criminals were filled with hatred and contempt. He wondered how much that had poisoned him, tainted his judgment.

The first time, it couldn’t be called a murder. This time, it could. The first time, he’d merely been protecting himself. Punishing a man who’d murdered a whole family.

He’d been allowed to enjoy it then. He’d had an excuse. Now…

Hannibal tilted his head. "Your mind recoils from your behavior, because the man you killed is an innocent one, instead of one who arguably deserved his fate," he surmised, watching the other's eyes.

Will blinked, surprised he understood so easily. Though the most disturbing part had yet to be said, and he doubted Hannibal would understand that part so readily (oh how little you know), he nodded, wetting his lips and looking up at Hannibal’s face for a moment before letting his gaze fall back down to his victim. 

Hannibal considered his words carefully, forcing his hand to fall away from the other's neck. "I found Pirelli's rudeness...unspeakably ugly." He probably couldn't have chosen a better person for Will's first kill, really. Now though, Will couldn't be allowed to retreat in to himself... to feel guilt. 

*The whole wide world's like a great black pit

And the vermin of the world inhabit it

Where the rude think they're above all of it…*

Surprise after surprise. Will was stunned to hear his own thoughts from Hannibal’s mouth, his view of the world echoed back to him so closely. 

Hannibal watched the look on Will's face evolve, and he inhaled deeply, detecting the distinct scent of epiphany.Words began to spill from Will's mouth, cynical, wounded, but the kind of surrender he'd been looking for.

*It’s gone so long…

They all deserve to die…

Don’t deny, Mr. Lecter, don’t deny…

Because in all of the whole human race, Mr. Lecter

There are two kinds of men and only two

There’s the one staying put in his proper place

And the one with his foot on the other man’s face

Look at me, Mr. Lecter. Look at her* 

He gestured upward, indicating Abigail, waiting upstairs for them no doubt. He’d been imprisoned wrongfully. She’d been abused. Hannibal had done well for himself, but the odds were that even he’d been wronged many times over by those who thought themselves above a simple shop owner.

*No they all deserve to die

Even we are not sinless, can’t they see

Because the lives of the wicked should be made brief

And for the rest of us death would be relief

We all deserve to die.

Maybe then I’d see Alana…

Maybe she’d even be proud of me…*

Hannibal considered the speech, letting himself be drawn in by Will's candor, knowing he was so close to unleashing the darkness he'd always known was there.

 *....Think about it... lots of other gentlemen will soon be coming for a shave

Won't they?*

Will blinked, realizing just how many throats he would have bared beneath a razor, at his mercy. The thought excited him, enticed him. And that, more than the idea of blood and his hands, scared him a little. He couldn’t deny how he felt though. And people really were terrible things…

Spineless, self-serving, entitled…And, as Hannibal had pointed out, rude.

So very rude.

*They’ll come and visit

Their good friend Graham…*

*For what's the sound of the world out there?

Those crunching noises pervading the air?

It's man devouring man, my dear,

So who are we to deny it in here?*

The look on Will's face... eager, thirsting for blood on his blade. Those years in jail had been the catalyst for Will's awakening... something that may not have happened while Alana still lived.

Hannibal felt a thrill of excitement run up his spine, and he leaned down to move Pirelli's body over to the side, where he could properly prepare the offal and meat later.

"Now...why don't you go upstairs and have lunch with Abigail? It would be rude to make her eat alone. I'll take care of Pirelli." While the body was still fresh… 

Will blinked, coming out of his reverie. He looked at Pirelli, knowing what Hannibal would do with him. He was still a bit unsure, but… “Okay… Come back up and eat with us when you can. I’m sure she’ll be wondering where you went off to.”

He took a deep breath, and then headed upstairs, only now noticing the blood on his clothes. He slid off his shoes and carried them in his hand, so he could rinse the bottoms off when he had the chance. “Abigail,” he called when he reached the top, still a bit distracted, off in his own mind. “Sorry that took so long. I just need to change my clothes real quick, and then we can eat, okay?”

“Okay,” she called back, looking curious, but saying nothing.

He went to go change, idly wondering about Hannibal, and how he could be so calm under pressure, so okay with what they were doing. He was an interesting man, no doubt there…

Hannibal took care of the body with a practiced hand, putting the unusable bits aside to be disposed of later, and putting the rest in the icebox to be kept cool. He'd have to have some more ice delivered, soon.

Once he finished, he shed himself of the gloves and protective suit he wore to cover his clothes, storing it back in its proper place, and heading back up the stairs. 

He returned to his room for a time to freshen up, and do something about the smell, and once he was presentable, he joined Will and Abigail, setting about serving himself some food.

"The meal is satisfactory, I hope?" He asked, looking between the two of them. He wasn't quite used to the extra company, just yet. It was not unwelcome, just a little odd. It made his lips twitch up, however, curious as to how Will and Abigail would interact.

Perhaps she would help him relax and ease back into usual social norms easier than he himself could.

Abigail was trying hard to be ladylike and not overtly ravenous, but at the question, she nodded eagerly, trying to swallow faster so she could answer properly. “It’s amazing. It’s no wonder this place is so nice. You must get a lot of business.”

Will’s lips twitched. “Yeah. My palate almost couldn’t take it at first. …I was away on business for a few years. Everything I ever got to eat was stale or heavily salted.”

Hannibal smiled with pride at the praise, sitting down with his own bowl and spoon. "Cooking is one of my passions," he said in simple response, beginning to eat himself. "Thank you for assisting, Abigail.”

“You’re welcome. I really didn’t do much though,” Abigail said, giving him a timid smile.

Hannibal sipped daintily at his soup for a moment, before setting his spoon down to speak. "I need to open the restaurant tomorrow, but the day after that, we can go pick you up a few things, Abigail. Some proper clothing, a few extra blankets and pillows." The couch would serve as a suitable bed, for the time being. 

“Okay. You really don’t need to do so much for me, you know…”

Will let out a short breath of a laugh. “After dealing with Pirelli so long, you deserve it,” he pointed out, idly eating his own soup, between bits of conversation. “Mm, besides, if you’re going to help with the restaurant, you’d need to dress nice and clean for that anyway, right?”

“That’s true…”

Hannibal nodded at the logic, pleased to see the way Will interacted with the girl. The impulsive decision may be an even better one than he'd hoped for.

-

Will was a bit horrified with the plan they came up with after Abigail had gone to bed. And yet, horrified as he may be, it only made sense to make a clear route from the shop to the basement. He still wasn’t sure if he was really going to go through with murdering more than his intended victims, hateful view of humanity or not, but… even if it was only them, he needed an easy way to get them down there. 

The chute was necessary.

It took some careful planning and a lot of effort to get it built, something he worked on at night, quietly, so as not to wake Abigail. But, it was turning out better than he could have hoped.

They all deserved to die… He could so easily picture many of the people he crossed paths with in a given day sliding down this chute. Could picture the arrogance and self-satisfaction replaced with fear as they realized, as they plead for their miserable lives, when it was already too late.

He let out a breath when they finished working for the night, swiping the back of his hand across his forehead to wipe away the sweat there.

Hannibal sat back on his heels, resting his hands on his thighs and surveying their handiwork. The chair looked beautiful, thick, solid, with a new cushion and other ornamental features, to distract from the rather mechanical look of the lower half (his idea... he had an eye for aesthetics).

It had taken the better part of the week, but the end was finally in sight. He rested a hand on Will's shoulder in camaraderie, a smile heavy with the sensation of a full days good work tugging at his lips.

It was perhaps the first time he'd let himself look anything less than impeccable in front of Will—but he wasn't about to get dirt and grease on his good suits. Being in sleeves rolled up to his elbows, in a button up and dark pants, was almost enough to make him cringe. He didn't want Will to see him at anything less than his best.

He would erase the image from his mind tomorrow, however, wearing something tailored and elegant, fixing his hair from its ruffled state.

"I do believe our little project is almost complete," he said, figuring it wouldn't be too inhuman of him to show a bit of pleasure at nearly finishing something they'd worked so hard on, no matter its purpose.

Will nodded his head, feeling a strange mix of very conflicting emotions. “Yeah… I’m sure Mason will be very comfortable in his final moments.”

It almost made him want to stick a nail under the seat.

Hannibal wanted to chuckle at the look of disdain on Will's face, but he refrained, standing, ignoring the sound of his knees popping. "I am sure you are tired, Will, but perhaps I could interest you in a nightcap?" He inquired, wiping his hands on the towel he'd brought up for just such purposes, then carefully rolling down his sleeves. 

“Yeah. I’d love one,” Will said, his lips twitching. He’d caught the popping sound.Funny. He wasn’t young anymore himself, and he felt even older than he really was, after imprisonment. He didn’t know how old Hannibal was, but he had to be at least a few years his senior. He wondered which one of them felt older though.He drew his shoulders back until they bones let out a satisfying crack, breathing a sigh as he let them settle back into place.

Hannibal walked downstairs, careful to avoid making too much noise to wake Abigail as he found a bottle of Bordeaux he'd been saving for a special occasion. Once he had two glasses as well, he went back up the stairs, hesitating only briefly as he wondered if perhaps he should change his grease-stained shirt.

Will knew of his vanity, but might count that as rather excessive, even for him, and he didn't want the man to start reading more into his actions than he wanted. Debate settled, he finished his ascent, carefully holding the bottle underneath his arm as he opened the door.

"You should be ready to open very soon," he said conversationally, setting his spoils on the vanity and carefully removing the cork from the wine.

Will nodded, moving to take a seat in the chair to test it’s stability, have a look around the room from the perspective of an unsuspecting victim. “Yeah… Thank you for helping me with all this,” he said, tilting his head back and closing his eyes, fantasizing. 

Hannibal stepped around the chair with full glasses once he finished pouring, taking a moment to watch Will sitting there, silent, throat bared.

He imagined pressing one of Will's razors against the delicate skin, imagined what it might look like to see the blood bubbling up from a paper thin cut.

Then he smiled. "Here you are," he said, holding one of the glasses out.

Will let his eyes flutter open, taking the glass. “Thanks.” He took a sip, and then stood, done seeing things from the victim’s perspective, for the time being. Done picturing the room flashing as they opened their eyes, let out a throaty noise, blood bubbling up from their throat as they realize they can’t call for help because their throat’s been cut. And then falling, down through the chute. If the impact itself didn’t kill them, they’d soon bleed to death.

The fantasy left him with chills. Uncomfortable for reasons he wasn’t comfortable with.

Hannibal tilted his head, taking a sip from his glass. Will still looked tense. Pensive. He could use a distraction, Hannibal thought. He still was unsure whether letting Will dwell on what they were doing was a good or bad thing. "Abigail has been quite the help in the restaurant," Hannibal said, sliding down into the chair since Will had evacuated it, rubbing his free hand idly over one of the elaborately constructed arms.

“Has she? It’s got to be better than working for Pirelli. Or Chilton. Whatever you prefer to call him,” Will said, dragging over one of the chairs for waiting customers or family members to sit opposite Hannibal. “It’s nice, having her here.”

Hannibal watched as Will moved to sit across from him, nodding. "It is. She brings a touch of cheer." It was nice too, to teach her a few of his techniques, tricks to get larger tips, efficient ways to clean the table—wear, how to plate eye-catching dishes.

Many of his customers had remarked that it was about time he got some help. It was unusual to see a man of his age running such a prosperous restaurant by himself, after all. Unmarried, too.

“She does.” Which was funny, given that the girl herself wasn’t exactly a ball of sunshine. He liked that though. Young as she was, she’d already seen how terrible the world could be. How cruel. The fact that he could tell she didn’t entirely trust them or their sincere kindness and generosity yet just made him like her even more, made him want to protect her. “Do you think she’d be upset if she found out what happened to Pirelli? Or do you think she’d feel twisted satisfaction?”

Hannibal tilted his head, regarding him. "Do you want her to feel satisfied?" He wondered, curious as to if satisfaction was indeed the emotion Will himself had felt, killing Pirelli. To do the deed was one thing, to enjoy it another entirely. 

Will frowned. “I don’t know… It would make it easier though.” He ran his fingers through his hair, taking a sip from his glass. 

Hannibal watched Will over the rim of his glass as he took another sip. "Do you feel satisfied?”

“There is a… certain satisfaction, in releasing some pent up rage on such an unpleasant person…”

Hannibal held back a smile, nodding his head in understanding. "You have not had many opportunities for satisfaction during your time away, I imagine.”

“That I have not.”

"It is understandable to seek it where you can." Hannibal leaned back in the seat, turning his gaze to the window. "We'll need to test this before you open... perhaps with a sack of flour? Something with some weight to it.”

Will nodded. “It’d be a bit of a waste though, since the flour would split open on impact. We have to make sure the chair is resistant to blood stains anyway. Maybe a hog’s head or slab of beef?”

Hannibal hummed. "I'll see what I can get tomorrow. I've also been meaning to give you some of my personal cleaning solution... it does wonders on blood stains. It might come in handy."

Hannibal inhaled the fragrance of his wine, wondering if Will would be wanting another glass. It was nice, these idle conversations. He could sense a connection with Will that was so very difficult to find, for someone like him.He had many acquaintances of course, many people who considered themselves his friends, but very few for who the feeling was mutual. 

“Where do you slaughter your animals, anyway?” Will asked, tilting his head. “I haven’t even seen any since I’ve been here. Do you stretch the resources or just butcher in bulk, when you get the chance?”

"In the basement," Hannibal responded easily. "I use much of the animal to get the most out of it. Offal, when prepared properly, can be quite tasty. I have some meat saved in the icebox, but I didn't have any live animals when you first arrived, and I haven't had time to purchase any since.”

“How do you get them in the basement though?” Will asked, trying to picture it.

Hannibal smiled. "The same way you got Pirelli down there." He stood to refill his glass, gesturing towards Will's. “More?"

Will nodded, holding his glass out. “Yeah… Forgive me if I’m having a hard time picturing you tossing a cow, sheep or pig over your shoulder alive and taking it down to the basement.” Maybe he only used calfs or something.

Hannibal shook his head. "They're quite dead, by the time I get them down there. I kill animals humanely and then take them to my shop to butcher them properly. An animal who died afraid tastes much differently than one that had a peaceful death, you know." He stepped over to pour more wine in Will's glass. "For larger animals, such as cows, I have a butcher I prefer, who I know uses practices I approve of, then I simply take the meat to prepare myself.”

“Ah. Makes much more sense than what I was trying to picture,” Will said, lips twitching. “…Does that mean whatever you made of Chilton’s going to taste bad? Isn’t that below your standards or something?”

Hannibal raised an eyebrow. "You underestimate me, dear Will. I daresay I could make a delicious meal out of whoever you chose to take...satisfaction on.”

“I gotta say, I’ve been a bit apprehensive about eating meat after letting you take care of Chilton, but, if you _did_  end up slipping any of him to us, I couldn’t tell.” Will took a sip of wine, sighing softly. “Did you? Did you taste it?”

"A chef always tastes his work," Hannibal said flippantly, though he did watch Will for his reaction. He hardly considered it cannibalism, the fake Italian had been so far beneath them.

Will couldn’t help making a face at that. “How’d he taste? I imagine he’d taste spoiled.”

Hannibal's lips twitched at that. "Oh? And what determines a person's taste, I wonder…"

“It probably isn’t personality, but I do wonder if it has an impact…I mean, if fear affects the taste, maybe self-absorption does too,” Will mused, idly swirling his glass, both sickened and intrigued by this conversation.

Hannibal finished off his glass, then presented it to Will with a flourish. "Here we are," he declared, "Hot out of the oven.”

Will raised his eyebrow, giving Hannibal a bemused look. “What is that?”

*It's priest

Have a little priest*

Hannibal insisted, resting a hand on the back of Will's chair, an innocent look on his face. It couldn't be helped that he was in an excellent humour. If Will found it strange well, he could always blame the wine.

Will’s lips twitched. He had to admit that the sense of humor here was weird and morbid, but… he should probably just feel thankful for that.

*Is it any good?* 

Hannibal's lips curled higher when Will played along, and he nodded emphatically.

*Sir it's too good, at least

And of course they don't come with sins of the flesh...

So it's pretty fresh*

***What’s the fun of that?***

*Oh so it's like that?

Perhaps you'd like poet or something like that?*

Will’s lips twitched again, and he let out a hum, considering that.

***No, you see the trouble with poet**

**Is how do you know it’s**

**Deceased?**

**At the least***

Hannibal chuckled, walking around until he was close to the window, turning his smile to the moon.

 *...Lawyer's rather nice.*

 Will let out a breath of a laugh, mocking the idea of a nice lawyer.

***If it’s for a price***

Hannibal tilted his head.

*Order something else though to follow

Since no one should swallow it twice*

Will laughed. He wasn’t even entirely sure what that meant, but, at the same time… he understood completely. Then again, he was two glasses of wine in, so there was that. “Mmm…”

***Got anything that’s lean?***

*Well if you’re British and loyal

You might enjoy royal marine*

Hannibal turned back towards Will, enjoying the sound of his laughter.

***It is very clean**

**Though of course it tastes of wherever it's been***

Will hummed, trying to think of another type of person to throw Hannibal’s way, see what he could come up with for that.

***Is that squire**

**On the fire?***

*Mercy no sir, look closer

You'll notice it's grocer*

He moved back to the chair, sitting across from Will again and crossing his legs, watching him with amused fondness.

***If it’s thicker**

**Is it vicar?***

Why was this so fun? And Hannibal seemed to be having just as much fun with it as he was.

*No, we know that it's grocer—

It's green*

He had an unhealthy love for puns. It was even more enjoyable when his audience actually knew he was making them.

Will laughed again. That one was just childish.

*The history of the world, my friend

Is those below serving right to the end*

Hannibal felt far too pleased, raising his hand in a sweeping gesture.

*How gratifying for once to know

That those above Will serve those down below*

He looked at the floor where his restaurant lie beneath, indicating he meant that quite literally.

Will grinned, enjoying the play on words, and stood, moving over to the window as he drained what remained of his wine from the glass, arching a brow when he saw an assumedly drunk, assumedly male figure moving through the streets. Assumedly, because they were wearing so many layers and ruffles that it was hard to tell anything.“…Now what is that?”

 Hannibal followed the other to the window, staring out.

*...It's fop

Finest in the shop*

He turned away, leaning against the glass and regarding Will with a slightly cheeky expression.

*Or, we have some shepherd’s pie peppered

With actual shepherd on top

But I've just begun

Here's the politician so oily

He's served with a doily have one*

Will wrinkled his nose at the idea of that.

***Maybe on a bun***

He cracked a smile as he thought of a good play on words himself.

*Well, you never know if it’s going to run*

Hannibal's eyes hooded in amusement, lips twitching.

*Try the friar, fried it's drier*

He suggested, leaning towards the other.

Will shook his head.

***No the clergy is really**

**Too course and too mealy***

*Then actor,

It's compacter*

He suggested, tilting his head.

***Yes, but it always arrives overdone***

Will’s lips twitched into a darkly humorous smirk. “I don’t think I’ll be truly satisfied with my meal until we have judge on the menu.”

Hannibal chuckled, resting a hand on Will's shoulder again, before redirecting his gaze to the window, staring out at the people still up and about.

*Have charity towards the world, my pet

We'll take the customers that we can get

We'll not discriminate great from small,

No we'll serve anyone

I mean anyone

And _to_  anyone

At all…* 

Will couldn’t help but grin at that, shaking his head. “Is it madness, how much I’m starting to like this sick idea of yours?”

Hannibal tried not to look too pleased, giving Will's shoulder a squeeze before forcing his hand down, straightening his collar. "Not at all. Is it madness, to slaughter pigs? One can hardly call even call it cannibalism.”

“Oh, it’s definitely cannibalism, but I do see your point,” Will said, glancing idly at his shoulder, before looking over at Hannibal.

He still couldn’t believe just how okay with everything the man was. Had he always been like this? He’d never noticed this… more morbid side of the man, back before he’d been to prison. Maybe it was only something you could see once you possessed it yourself. He wondered what had instilled it in Hannibal. 

Hannibal noticed Will looking, but didn't acknowledge it, wondering what was going through the man's mind. He turned his gaze from the rude below up to the sky, taking a second to enjoy the stars.

"...While I'd love to pass the night with you, I am rather filthy. I think I'll return to my rooms and have a bath." Hannibal moved to the vanity and picked up the nearly empty bottle of wine, collecting their glasses as well.

"Sweet dreams, Will.”

Heh. It’d been a long while since he’d had sweet dreams, but it was a nice thought…

“You too,” he said, nodding his head to the other before heading off toward his own room, wondering idly what sort of strange, cannibalistic dreams awaited him that night.

-

It was quite the lucrative business. Gentlemen would bring their families with them when they came for a shave, and the wives and daughters would dine in his restaurant while they waited.

Abigail was doing a wonderful job, and the customers loved her, her new wardrobe complimenting the classy air of his business.

And, he really did think she looked much better brunette.

Hannibal was patient, waiting to see what Will would do with their hard work—would he wait until the judge came, or would the darkness in him demand a sacrifice early?

He got his answer later in the week, when he was in the midst of preparing the pork he'd purchased, and a body tumbled down onto the floor across the room. A red-haired woman he recognized as a nosy gossip, often coming to his shop and inquiring about his business.

Well, he couldn't say Will had bad taste.

The meat that day was long pig.

Abigail was quickly adjusting to her new, much improved life. She still had a bit of a hard time believing that life could really grant her such kindness without a catch, but, for now, she was willing to overlook that nagging feeling in the back of her mind. Besides, she was sure she could handle it.

She was much more suited to working here than for Pirelli. She thought she made for an excellent lure, but, it helped when there was an actual, worthwhile product for her to lure them _to_.

 

*Ladies and gentlemen,

May I have your attention, please?

Are your nostrils aquiver and tingling as well

At that delicate, luscious ambrosial smell?

Yes they are, I can tell.

Well, ladies and gentlemen,

That aroma enriching the breeze

Is like nothing compared to its succulent source,

As the gourmets among you will tell you, of course.

Ladies and gentlemen,

You can't imagine the rapture in store

Just inside of this door!* 

She flashed the people on the street a sweet smile, beckoning, welcoming, and swept her arms to the door to invite them in.

*There you'll sample

Mr. Lector's delights

Savory and sweet bites

As you'll see

Something gourmet

Just one bite of this entree

Florence Whispers you’ll say

Is the place where you’d say

You should be!*

Hannibal carried out the plates for the last order he'd been given, smiling at the beautiful way he'd arranged the plate. 

"Abby," he called, stepping out from around the counter to do a brief check on the customers, noticing an empty cup. "Wine there," he instructed, "Quick now."

He moved on to the next table, putting on a smile.

***Nice to see you lovely**

**How have you been keeping?**

**Yes, the weather's dreary**

**Abby! One for the gentleman***

He continued his walk around, clasping his hands behind his back. 

***Everything is bustling**

**Everyone is cheery**

**Abby, they need a table there***  

“Yes sir!” Abigail called, attending to every customer’s needs as Hannibal called them out to her.

Hannibal moved back to the counter, washing his hands and glancing over his shoulder when a lightly tipsy couple approached, praises on their lips.

***What's my secret?**

**Frankly ma'am forgive my candor**

**Family secret**

**The secret's in the herbs**

**Things like being**

**careful with your coriander**

**that's what makes the flavors grander***

Will came out to have a look around, generally keeping to the upstairs whenever business was running downstairs, not only for his own business, but to avoid the people that clamored for good food in a place where that was very rare to come by. Hannibal clearly cared about the taste and presentation, which you couldn’t say for many who were just trying to scrape by.

He leaned forward against the rails, watching the people below. He’d be lying if he said his eyes weren’t scanning the crowd for any hints of the judge or beadle, but, when his search came up empty, he allowed himself to focus on Hannibal and Abigail, his new, strange little family.

It made his lips twitch just a bit to watch them go about their work. So normal.

And yet, he was aware of the secret ingredient a few of those dishes contained…It almost made him want to laugh aloud.

Hannibal gave a cool smile as he watched the patrons gobbling down his food, surveying the crowd like a king would his subjects.

***Eat it slow and feel the love**

**that I put in it**

**Eat it slow as every meal's a prize.**

**Eat it slow**

**because that's the last one**

**Now we've sold it**

**Come again tomorrow***  

His eyes glinted, wandering up to where he could see Will standing near the stairs.

***Maybe there'll be fresh supplies...***

Ingredients gone, he focused on catering to the patrons already there, wiping his hands on his apron.

***Can I help you dearie?**

**What is that you're drinking?**

**I might have a theory, Abby**

**She'll try the sherry then**

**Isn't that just smashing?**

**Now you look so cheery***  

He turned, gesturing towards the door.

***Abby, turn the sign over now.***

Another successful day of business.

Once the last of the people had filtered out and Hannibal closed up shop for the day, Will came down to help clean, scrubbing down the tables while Abigail gathered up the leftover plates and silverware. “Is it just me, or are yours an even more popular place to eat than it was before?” he asked Hannibal conversationally as he scrubbed. 

Hannibal smiled at the sight of his new little family helping him clean up, sweeping the floor. "I do believe that's thanks to you, Will," he said, giving Will a conspiratorial look. "Many of your customers stop by for a bite after they'd had a shave. And your own business has been certainly been booming."

Will’s lips twitched. “It could just be that your cooking’s somehow gotten even better, but, the addition of my business does probably have something to do with it,” he said, trying to subtly imply Hannibal was just that good at making human flesh taste good.

Hannibal beamed at the praise, mildly amused by the implications. Of course, Will couldn't know that it wasn't the first time he'd cooked using unorthodox ingredients. "Thank you.”

Will nodded, stretching his back when he finished with the table he was on, before moving to the next one. “Abigail, how are you liking it here?”

Abigail looked over, blinking. “It’s the nicest I’ve been treated in a long while.”

“That’s unfortunate, but, I’m glad.” He was a bit surprised Hannibal wasn’t spoiling her even more than he was. It was funny, how much more the man aimed for than what society was usually willing to offer. What most were willing to settle for. 

Hannibal smiled, an idea coming to mind. "We have had quite the successful week...why don't we take a break tomorrow? Perhaps spend some time in the park, if the weather's nice?”

Will nodded. “Fine by me.” Unless that was the one day Mason decided he needed a shave, of course…Well, all good things to those who wait, he supposed.

Abigail smiled, nodding her agreement.

"Excellent. I'll prepare a lunch for us in the morning." Perhaps a meat free dish, so Will wouldn't concern himself thinking about the food…

“How are we going to carry it around without messing up the elaborate plating though?” Will teased good-naturedly, earning an amused smile from Abigail.

Hannibal shook his head. "Will, don't be ridiculous. I'll plate when we get there, of course.”

Will laughed, as did Abigail.

Knowing Hannibal, he was probably being completely serious about that, too.

-

Hannibal did indeed bring plates along to the picnic so that he could create a beautiful set up, bringing a blanket and trays that they could set their food down on without worrying about spills or bugs.

He made mostly finger foods with bread and fruit and cheese, a few tomatoes—excellent picnic fair.

It was fairly nice weather when they went out, and Hannibal smiled up at the sky, selecting a nice place by a large tree to start setting up.

Will couldn’t help but smile with fond exasperation at the man as he watched him set up, leaning his back against the tree. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re just a bit ridiculous?” he asked, enjoying the weather.

Maybe he could get back into fishing on his days off…That’d be nice. Relaxing…

Abigail hummed, quietly agreeing with Will. She was starting to get an idea of what the catch could be.

Hannibal paused, a brief twinge of irritation flitting through him before he registered the emotion in the other's tone, and settled. "No." He finished setting up the plates, and then pulled out glasses, pouring them all some juice he'd made that morning.

“Thank you,” Abigail said when she was handed her glass, giving Hannibal a smile. “This is all very nice.”

Will nodded. “It is. Maybe next time we do this we can go to the ocean. Have you ever been fishing, Abigail?” he asked, lips twitching when she shook her head no. “I could teach you then.”

Hannibal smiled, watching the two of them. Will was bonding to Abigail. Alana had not given him a child...he had. "I'll prepare what you two catch, then.”

Abigail smiled. “I could help with that too. It is best I learn my way around a kitchen, after all,” she said, thinking both of her potential future career working in the restaurant, and her newfound potential to eventually be married. She couldn’t think of many men who would want to marry some poor little orphan girl working for a miracle elixir peddler, unless she was just that lovely, but… maybe the cute waitress life she’d found would bring her a bit more attention, in that department.

“You’ll be a woman of all trades,” Will said, taking a sip of juice.

Hannibal smiled, proud. "Yes, it is quite a useful skill to have." Hannibal dug in to his portion, watching the clouds with a content look on his face.

Will got a bit of food for himself to start with, closing his eyes as he relaxed, idly nibbling. “If you can learn how to cook like Hannibal here, we might end up having to beat the young men who want to make you their wife off with sticks.”

"So violent, Will," Hannibal said. "I'm sure the sticks won't be necessary. Abigail is a good judge of character, isn't that right?" He asked, a smile tugging at his lips.

Abigail smiled, shrugging her shoulders. “Maybe you’ll need the sticks. We’ll see.”

Hannibal chuckled, taking another sip of his drink. He was still relishing in the implications of Will's compliment, though he'd never had to beat away young men who wanted to marry him with sticks. Of course, he didn't need that sort of attention.

He glanced at Will, idly crossing his legs at the ankles.

Abigail blinked when she spotted a vendor selling necklaces and other such pieces of jewelry across the park, fingers curling against her chest. She did have some money now… Maybe a little gift for herself wouldn’t be so bad… “Is it okay for me to go look?” she asked, pointing to the cart that’d caught her attention.

Will shrugged. He didn’t see why not. After working in a scam, she should be smart and observant enough not to be ripped off.

"Of course," Hannibal said easily, finishing off the last grape on his plate.

Abigail smiled, nodded, and then carefully set her plate aside so she could stand and move to go look.

Will covered her plate with a napkin to deter the bugs, continuing to idly nibble at his own food, afterward.

Hannibal looked over at Will, a smile twitching at his lips. Truly, this was more than he could have dared hope for, upon discovering Will Ravenstag's return. He set his glass down, shifting closer to the man and brushing a crumb off his chin to get his attention, then letting his hand fall on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze in between his words. 

*Ooh Mr. Graham

I’m so happy

I could eat you up I really could*

His lips curled higher at his own joke, eyes hooding.

*You know what I’d like to do Mr. Graham?

What I dream?

Since the business is so good

Where I’d really like to go

You and Abby in tow

don’t you want to know?*

Will glanced down at the hand on his shoulder, and then over at Hannibal to give him a curious look, once he decided that he didn’t mind the touch. He raised an eyebrow at the question. “Where?”

Hannibal straightened, folding his hands in his lap.

*Do you really want to know?

Italy Mr. Graham that’s the life I covet

Italy Mr. Graham

Hm, I think you’d love it

you and me and Abby we could be alone

in a house that we both would own

In Italy

Wouldn’t that be lovely?*

He'd always wanted to go back to Florence...he would have, probably had he not had the small hope of one Will Ravenstag returning to Britain, one day. He'd always been a bit of a romantic. Now that he had Will, and Abigail, he was perfectly content with leaving the rain-plagued country behind.

Will hummed, leaning his head back against the tree as he tried to picture what life in Italy might be like. He no longer bore any sense of attachment to London, with the sole exception of his revenge, of course.

Once Mason was dead…what was there to stop him from leaving? Italy might be nice.

“I’ve never been.”

*We could go to Venice navigate the channels

Go and visit the grand Palermo chapel

In our splendid retreat

kept all neat and tidy

We’ll have guests over every Friday

Italy

don’t you love the weather

I wouldn't mind

growing old together

In the city, oh,

Beautiful Italy* 

It was quite the little fantasy, he knew...but Will was very likely still dedicated to Alana—he hadn't seen him even looking at any other women. He himself wasn't interested in marrying. So, perhaps it was not such an outrageous suggestion. 

Will was a bit caught off guard by the implication of growing old together, but… He supposed that if they continued living together, that was exactly what would happen, now wouldn’t it?

He nodded just a bit distractedly, wondering if the other’s wording was a coincidence or not.

Hannibal smiled, standing and dusting off his pants. "I think I'll take Abigail's lead and see if I can't find something for Lady Bedelia... her patronage has made my shop into what it is today." He followed their faux daughter over to the stand, leaving Will to think on his words.

…Will wondered if he should know who that was…

He furrowed his brow, momentarily distracted by the knowledge that Hannibal apparently had a woman he was close to, before shaking his head, deciding to try dismissing his strange mix of thoughts, for the time being. It was easier said (thought?) than done though.

-

Will Graham's Tonsorial Parlor.

Mason Verger rubbed his chin as he stepped up the stairs to the shop, lips pursed. Cordell had assured him that the man was just as good as the rumors said, and of course, he wanted only the best. The downfall was that the shop was so very close to Lecter's restaurant... that man had a habit of getting under his skin. Predators, they could recognize each other. By scent, perhaps.

He opened the door unceremoniously, looking around the rather dingy shop with a raised lip. "...Mr. Graham?" He said of the man inside, straightening.

Will’s heart nearly stopped when he saw the man he’d been hoping to see so badly, arriving so unexpectedly at his shop. He was glad he didn’t already have anyone in the chair, because he may well have accidentally cut his throat without actually intending to.

“Yes. Judge, welcome. It’s an honor, to have you in my shop.”He was not good at faking politeness, but, if it meant having his revenge, he was willing to funnel all the energy it took into doing so.

Mason raised an eyebrow, stepping in and closing the door behind him. "You know me, sir?" He asked, loosening his cravat.

“Of course. Who wouldn’t know a man as important as yourself?” Will said, moving to get his things ready. He felt tingly, light on his feet with excitement and anticipation. He couldn’t wait to bite into Mason like the pig he was…

He’d heard a rumor floating around that the man literally drank children’s tears. It was most likely false, but he was too far gone to care.

Mason nodded, a smirk curling his lips. "Who indeed." He moved further into the parlor, eyes wandering around all the little knick knacks. "I've heard word that you're the best barber in London," he said conversationally, stopping by the window and peering out. 

“Why yes, I am,” Will confirmed, heart beating faster. He busied himself with preparation to distract himself. “Have you come to test that claim then?”

"Indeed." Mason slid into the seat, crossing his legs and looking up at the other challengingly. "Big words, for someone who hasn't been around very long," he said, taking off his hat and setting it on his lap.

“I assure you, I have many years of experience and practice.”

Now, should he go slow, actually shave him a bit, savor it… Or should he take vengeance quickly, cut to the chase, avoid the risk of Mason sensing his intentions and fleeing, or an interruption?

Will slid his most recently sharpened razor into his belt, to use in the event that Mason proved stronger than expected, and then wrapped his hands around his neck and squeezed. He’d crush his throat, make it so that he couldn’t scream or call out, and then he’d beat his face in. Yes.

It felt good, too good, to feel Mason’s larynx crushed beneath his grip.

Mason jerked, hands instinctively coming up to tug the ones around his throat away, a gasping, choking noise leaving his mouth. He kicked out with his legs, trying to move his assailant that way instead.

Will, realizing his mistake, in his eagerness, swore softly under his breath, letting go with one hand, balling it into a fist, and using it to bash Mason in the face, breaking his nose. He knew this would stun him momentarily, so he wasted no time in activating the chair, sending the man hurdling down into the basement.

He sucked in a breath, locked the door, and then quickly hurried down, so he could catch and kill Mason while he was still recovering from the fall.

He hoped it had broken his legs, but left him alive… He wanted that pleasure for himself.

Hannibal carefully sliced through the meal, separating the fat from the bits he wanted to work with, sleeves rolled up strong forearms, a melody on his mind. Behind him, he heard the tell-tale sound of the trap door open and close, and he straightened, a smile curling his lips.

Will had struck again... he was so proud.

He wiped his hands off on a nearby towel, turning. Very quickly, he realized that this man was still alive. He was letting out choked, not quite screams, looking around wildly.

It took a moment for Hannibal to recognize him, past the blood streaming down his nose.

"Oh, Judge Mason. How kind of you to join me."

Hannibal glanced at the door, smile growing wider. "If you'll wait but a moment, I think we'll be having another guest soon as well."

Mason turned horrified eyes towards him. He wasn't moving, though. Hannibal wondered if his spine had been broken, in the fall…

Will was downstairs and at the basement door in a matter of seconds, and he took a brief moment to make sure he wasn’t being watched before tugging open the basement door and slipping inside, making his way down. He was pleased when his prey’s wounded noises met his ears, glad to know he was still alive, after all. 

“Hey, Hannibal,” he greeted.

"Good afternoon, Will."

Will descended upon Mason with righteous fury.He knelt down, drew back his fist, and let it connect with Mason’s face, the busted pieces of cartilage from his broken nose crunching as his knuckles ground them down against bone. He drew back and hit again, aiming for the mouth, pleased when he saw a tooth fall out, when he pulled back again. The lips were so split and bloodied they may as well not exist. He wrapped his non-bloodied hand over the other hand and drove the larger fist it created down into his face, his mind going quiet and serene, his senses alert for the moments where he managed to break bone as he continued to beat the life out of his victim.

Hannibal clasped his hands behind his back, walking closer to observe, but not intrude upon the other's kill, watching with interest as Will began to savagely beat Mason Verger to death. He much preferred the clean precision of knives, but there was something about the feral-like way Will moved, the almost calm look on his face, as he rendered the judge's face to little more than a bloody pulp.

Hannibal's nerves tingled with sensation, tongue sliding out to wet his lips.Will was beautiful like this. 

Will wasn’t sure when exactly Mason died, or how long after that point he continued to punch, but, eventually, he was left exhausted and panting for air, his knuckles bruised and bleeding, and allowed himself to stop long enough to realize he had gone. 

He shuddered, a weight lifting from his shoulders. He felt so incredibly alive and happy and peaceful, for the first time in years. Chilton’s death had brought him a similar reverie, but… it couldn’t really compare to how he felt now. He was awash with pleasure, covered in Mason’s blood, kneeling on the stone floor of Hannibal’s basement. 

He blinked slowly, lifting his eyes to look at the man. He was too lost to really speak, or think clearly, but, the man was watching him with clear interest, had not left or turned away, despite the gruesome act that had just occurred before him.

Hannibal watched Will slowly become covered with blood, red and rich and painting the most beautiful portrait on Will's skin. His breath stopped when Will turned to look at him, and he forced himself to get it under control, a slow smile curling his lips. "If I saw you every day Will, for the rest of my life... I would remember this time.”

Will was breathing hard, a bit dazed, but the words certainly held his mind. “You watched.”

"Yes," Hannibal admitted, wondering what was going through Will's head.

Will nodded a bit dumbly, at a loss that the other hadn’t left once it became obvious what was about to happen. Maybe Hannibal had wanted to see the man die just as badly as he did. Maybe he understood the brutal pleasure in this. Maybe he shared his blood lust, even if he did not partake.

Of course, a man who could freely butcher his own animals could just be used to blood, but, such scenes of violence..?

“Did you feel it?”

Hannibal paused, then nodded. This was Will's becoming. It was only right to be honest. "Yes. It was beautiful.”

Was the hesitance shame..? No, more like fear… but of what?

Will stood, staring. Mason’s body no longer held any interest for him, but Hannibal certainly did.

Hannibal watched Will approach, feeling his pulse increasing with every step. He didn't think anything else had ever made his heart race, like this. Not even killing.

Will closed the distance between them, holding the man’s gaze as he moved his bloodied hand to cup Hannibal’s cheek, watching for his reaction.

As he pressed that warm, wet hand against Hannibal's cheek, Hannibal closed his eyes, leaning into the touch and inhaling deeply, taking in the scent of blood and vengeance and Will.

It was only fitting that the first touch Will gave him be one covered in blood. 

Will sucked in a breath at the reaction he received, one of wanting. He didn’t think over it much, the action coming to him on impulse and need rather than any conscious thought.

He leaned in and connected his mouth with Hannibal’s, eyes sliding shut.

It was utterly taboo and frowned upon what he was doing, he knew, but, it felt like the right action. And besides, he’d already committed murder. Why not add to his list of sins? The only concern to be had was whether Hannibal would respond in kind, or be repulsed.

Hannibal sucked in a sharp intake of breath when he felt lips cover his, and he went very still, momentarily unable to move.

He had considered this path of his and Will's relationship, but he would have been satisfied with the general fondness the other seemed to hold for him. This was more than he could have hoped for.

A moment later, Hannibal wrapped his arms around Will's body, fingers gripping tightly onto his shirt before smoothing over the fabric, mouth opening against Will's to bite down none to gently on his top lip, unable to help himself.

He soothed it with his tongue afterwards, drawing the man closer.

Will kissed Hannibal more aggressively after the other deepened it, wrapping his arms around the other’s slender waist and crushing him to him, his tongue plunging forward to taste the other’s mouth.

Red wine. A bunch of other flavors too, but, that was the most noticeable one. How appropriate, for such an intoxicating person.

Hannibal opened easily to Will's tongue, breath speeding at the intensity of the other man's passion. His body felt warm, stomach churning, arousal flooding him in a way it never had with the women he'd had trysts with, in order to keep up the appearance of a normal life.

He smoothed his hands up and down either side of Will's spine, unable to touch enough, feel enough, to satisfy the craving within him. He wanted to consume Will, wanted to devour him. He needed to.

His tongue clashed with Will's, tasting him, and a bit of Mason's blood, his hands finding the man's hips and squeezing.

Will moved forward, dragging Hannibal with him, until he could lean them both into the wall, kissing him hard and deep for a few seconds more before breaking it to drag in a few ragged, shuddering breaths. He needed… There was a lot he needed…

He moved one hand to Hannibal’s, sliding it down to palm him through his pants, massaging the fingers into his sack as he felt for the shaft with his palm and wrist, dragging them over it. His mouth moved to Hannibal’s neck, biting it, and then soothing it with his tongue and sucking, instead.

Hannibal resisted for a moment, when Will tried to move them, but he gave in once he was able to control his body's instinctive reaction. He trusted Will. He opened his eyes when he felt the wall at his back, panting to get in the air he needed.

That got a little harder when Will began touching him. A guttural sound was tugged from his lips, and he leaned his head back against the wall, chest heaving.

He was already quite aroused, straining against the front of his pants, and his hips couldn't help but twitch into the touch, hands moving to squeeze Will's arms.

Will's teeth against his neck, his tongue, his body so close... Hannibal inhaled, getting a little lightheaded from the intoxicating scent.

He wanted to steal the breath from Will's lungs, to make him as weak-kneed as he currently felt. And he still wasn't quite used to this lack of control.

So with some effort, he turned, pushing Will against the wall instead, and connecting their mouths again, pressing Will's wrists against the wall and rocking their hips together.

Will was momentarily surprised at the adjustment, but, it was easy enough to get lost to sensation when he was already there, his tired arm muscles going lax in surrender as he focused instead on moving his hips against Hannibal’s, parting his lips for the other to dominate his mouth, too.

There was a fleeting concern that had been instilled in him during his prison time, but, he pushed it to the back of his mind, reminding himself of where he was, no spectators, and with a person he could trust.

“Nngh…”

Hannibal nipped and sucked and the other's lips, unable to get enough. He kissed Will's chin, nipped at his jaw, and then moved lower, moving his hands back to Will's hips then sliding up his stomach as he went lower, and lower.

Then he was on his knees. He looked up at Will's face, still breathing rather heavy, tongue slipping out to wet his lips. "May I?" He asked, gesturing with his eyes towards the front of Will's pants.

Oh god, how had he never noticed just how fuckable Hannibal’s mouth was?

Will wet his own lips, and then nodded, curling his fingers and pressing his palms back into the wall.

Hannibal undid Will pants and tugged them down with deft hands, blinking slowly when he finally freed the man's cock from the confines of his underwear.

He hadn't done this in some time, but he couldn't recall ever being so eager as he felt, seeing Will's erection curved towards his stomach, waiting for him.

He leaned forward, worshipping the shaft with kisses, his hands pressing against the other's hips. He inhaled, his own arousal throbbing against the front of his pants. After a bit, he added his tongue to the equation, his open mouthed kisses starting at the shaft and gradually moving up until he reached the head. His tongue laved over the little slit once, twice, before he wrapped his mouth around the head and started to suck.

Will clenched his jaw as Hannibal teased him with too light caresses of the lips against his aching flesh. He shuddered, watching, loving and hating every torturous moment.

Finally, showing mercy, Hannibal took him into his mouth, and his eyes rolled back in his head, lips parting as a deep moan was drawn out of him. He moved a hand to Hannibal’s head, idly noticing when the hair stuck to the drying blood that coated the appendage, but too far gone to care. Hopefully Hannibal felt the same, because he didn’t know how he’d handle it if he stopped now.

“Mmmngh… God, Hannibal…”

A thrill went down Hannibal's spine at the way Will said his name, touched his head. Dimly, he was aware that the blood on Will's hand meant he would be washing thoroughly, but that was already the case.

He bobbed his head down, no longer interested in teasing, sucking hard as he came up and working his tongue around what it could reach of the shaft. He wanted to touch himself, but resisted, not wanting to come in his pants like a schoolboy.

Will was making it very difficult not to, though…

Will grunted, his hips twitching forward as Hannibal worked him over with that talented mouth of his, the tongue caressing him in a way he hadn’t even thought tongues dextrous enough to do. Oh god _yes_ … It was getting harder to hold his hips still, to resist thrusting into Hannibal’s mouth. Would he care if he did?

He allowed himself one thrust before forcing his hips back into the wall, sucking in a breath, fingers curling in Hannibal’s hair as he struggled to get himself under control.

Hannibal could tell Will was trying to control himself, but he didn't want that. He wanted him to relinquish it, to ache for him, to desperately seek out his touch.

He slid his hands around to Will's rear, pushing him forward so his cock moved even deeper into his mouth, letting him know he could let go. He breathed through his nose, not caring if he choked, remaining still so Will could fuck his mouth as he liked.

A choked noise caught in Will’s throat when Hannibal brought his hips forward for him, hissing with pleasure as the wet heat of the man’s perfect mouth engulfed him again. He moved both hands to the other’s head and let his hips move farther forward, sinking deeper, until he was fucking the other’s throat along with his mouth. He shuddered, fingers crying in Hannibal’s hair.

He drew back, and after taking a moment to make sure Hannibal was okay, he closed his eyes and started to thrust into the other’s waiting, sinfully receptive mouth, panting, thigh muscles quivering.

“Mmmngh, f-fuck, Hannibal…” Will breathed, biting his lip as he felt himself getting close. “G-gonna come.”

Heat curled in his stomach at the sounds Will made, and his fingers twitched, before digging into the muscles of the other's rear. He relaxed his gag reflex through sheer force of will, sucking in air hard through his nose as Will's cock slid further, reaching his throat.

Then the other was thrusting, and despite himself noises of his own slipped out around the other's erection. He was barely able to breathe, but he didn't care, the feeling and sound of Will lost, moving in total abandon, was better than air.

He did his best to swallow around the length, nostrils flaring, one of his hands jerking down to palm himself when it became impossible to resist any longer.

Will moaned as he came, moving his hands back to the wall to avoid jerking Hannibal too far down onto him. His toes curled in his shoes, eyes rolling back and throat, along with nearly every muscle in his body, drawn tight as his hips rocked in the wake of his release.

When they stilled, he let out a ragged, satisfied sigh, letting his hips slide back to pull his softening cock back out from between Hannibal’s lips.

He knelt down with him on the floor, moving his hand down to open up the front of Hannibal’s pants. “Open your mouth.”

Hannibal coughed when Will pulled out, sucking in air, hard enough to ache. He worked on regulating his breathing first, opening his eyes to see the look on Will's face, wine-colored irises ringing fully dilated pupils fixed firmly, no room to look at anything else.

His breath shuddered when he felt Will's hand at the front of his pants, and he obeyed the order without question, mind too dazed to focus on trying to remain in control.

Will dipped his fingers into Hannibal’s mouth, gathering the mix of cum and saliva that blanketed the other’s tongue to coat his fingers with. Then, once he had Hannibal’s arousal free, he wrapped those fingers around it and began to pump, wrapping his other arm around the man’s middle, holding him, as he leaned his head on his shoulder.

Hannibal could taste blood on Will's fingers when he slid them into his mouth. He blinked hard, trying to regain control of himself, but when Will wrapped a hand around him it became impossible. He leaned forward, shuddering, grateful for Will's hold. 

Restrained moans slipped past his lips, his fingers clutching at Will's sides, hips twitching. He knew it wouldn't take long. It had been some time, and he had wanted Will for longer than he would admit.

Will flexed his fingers around Hannibal’s cock, pumping him faster, his head tilting so he could nibble at the other’s ear. He could feel the other throbbing in his hand.

Hannibal closed his eyes against the feeling of Will's teeth, breath hitching. "Will," he gasped, hips jerking into his touch. "Dear Will..." He was overwhelmed, arousal and desperation flooding him just as much as the warmth in his chest, so hot and scalding he felt it might burn him from the inside out.

He bit his lip, but couldn't stop the groan that tumbled from his throat as he came, gasping, clutching Will close.

Will worked Hannibal through his orgasm, only letting go when he felt the rod starting to go soft in his hand. He took a moment to get his bearings back before standing, tucking himself back in and then offering his hand to Hannibal to help him stand too.

He found it oddly appropriate that Mason’s dead body had played witness to their act.

Hannibal opened his eyes when he felt Will move, swallowing, his throat feeling sore and rather raw. He regretted nothing, however. He fixed himself up, accepting Will's hand once his pants, now stained with his ejaculate, were fastened closed again.

He looked at Will with all the love he was capable of feeling in his eyes, lips curled in a smile as he gave the other male's hand a gentle squeeze.

Will’s lips twitched fondly at the look on Hannibal’s face, having to glance away for a moment the emotion there was so overpowering. “I hope Abigail’s at the market, because we might have to do some sneaking to get clean if she isn’t.”

"She was, she may not be any longer." Hannibal wondered what he would see of them, if he looked in the mirror. He should like to see them together, bloody, stained, triumphant, but he recognized Will might like some privacy to get decent. He hummed, walking over to find an apron to slip on over his clothing to hide the worst of it, running a hand through his hair, feeling the dried blood mixed in the strands.

Will hummed, formulating something he could say to explain this as he headed up the stairs, figuring there was no use in delaying.

 -

“Oh, hey- oh my god, are you okay?” Abigail gasped when she saw Will emerge from the basement, eyes a little wide. “What happened?”

“I was helping Mr. Lector with some meat downstairs.” He was sure Hannibal would get a kick out of that pun. “Apparently I’m a clumsy oaf because I slipped in the blood and got it all over both of us trying to get back up.”

Abigail blinked, looking him over. There was surprisingly little on his pants, but, they were dark, so, maybe the worst of the blood stains were hidden. Either way, picturing that was more than a little funny, so she felt her lips twitch despite herself, covering her mouth with her hand to hide it. “Oh…”

Hannibal looked even funnier than Will did, considering how clean he usually was.

But… in his _hair_? The evidence was just piling up…

Abigail didn't quite look fooled. Hannibal gave her a pleasant smile. "I'm going to freshen up before continuing with dinner... I hope you don't mind it will be a bit late, tonight.”

“That's fine,” Abigail said, returning the smile with a small one of her own, lowering her hand. “I put the ingredients you asked for away already, so if you need them, that’s where they’ll be.”

Will nodded. “Good girl. I’m gonna go take a bath myself.” He headed for the stairs, his mind buzzing as he thought over all the recent developments.

If revenge was a dish best served cold, he wondered how Hannibal would prepare Mason…

Hannibal went back to his own rooms, running himself a bath and carefully stripping off his clothes.

He closed his eyes, savoring the memory of Will's hands on his skin, wondering what the other was thinking about their activities now.

Was he regretting them? Or already thinking of the next time?

He sank into the water, a serene smile curling his lips.

-

“Hey, Hannibal,” Will greeted the man later that night, knocking on his door frame. “Can we talk before you go to bed?”

Hannibal slipped on a robe when he heard the knock, smiling upon seeing Will there. "My door is always open," he said, gesturing inside. "Please, come in.”

Will nodded, stepping inside, closing the door behind him, just in case. He took a seat on the other’s bed, resting his hands on his knees. “I’m a bit surprised about earlier. You didn’t seem to hesitate at all.”

Hannibal regarded Will, resting his hands behind his back. "Are you referring to watching you brutalize Mason, or what happened afterwards?”

“The latter, but the former also made me curious,” Will said, looking at the other. “I don’t know if I was always attracted to men and just didn’t know it, or if being in prison took away all my previous moral values and changed me. It’s not exactly seen as acceptable though. Have you always known, or were you as surprised as I was?”

Just one more reason not to regret Will's stint in prison. Hannibal tilted his head. "It's never really mattered to me, I suppose." He hesitated a moment, loathe to tilt his hand, but suspecting it might be beneficial, in this situation. "And... I've always had a fondness for you, Will.” 

Will blinked, surprised. “I’m… sorry I never noticed, then.”

"There is no need for an apology," Hannibal said, mildly amused by the look on the man's face. He waited half a beat longer, before walking over to the bed and sitting next to the man, so they might conversation more comfortably.

“…So… why didn’t you look away then?” Will asked, figuring he might as well get to the second half of his curiosities, since he was still a bit stunned by the revelation. “Did you just want him dead just as badly as I did?”

Hannibal debated how to respond to that, turning his eyes forward. "Perhaps," he said, not dishonestly, "Mason Verger was a very rude man.”

Will hummed. “That he was…”

He still remembered how the man had behaved at his trial. As though deciding on what happened to his life was beneath him, and not worth his time. He couldn’t even be bothered to remember his face.

Hannibal nodded, looking over to Will again, wondering if he would be satisfied with that. He wasn't quite sure if it was wise to show all of himself to Will, if the man could handle seeing it. Better to play it safe.

“I guess it would take a person who felt a lot of darkness himself to handle it the way you do, so I should just be thankful for such a rare find, hm?”

Hannibal smiled slowly, at the thoughts so similar to his own.

Will’s lips twitched, mildly amused with the way life worked, sometimes. He wondered what Alana thought, if she’d passed into an afterlife and could see them now.Hopefully, she would understand and be happy that they’d found a new companionship in each other.“What do you think Abigail would think if she knew?” 

 

"I believe Abigail prefers survival to traditional morals." He wasn't sure if they'd ever end up telling her, but if they did, well... he trusted she would understand what it would mean, should she decide to reject them. It would be unfortunate, but necessary.

“Hm.” Will nodded his agreement. “Guess we’ll just have to make sure she knows we love her and would much rather protect than hurt her.”

Hannibal nodded. Their family was certainly unconventional, but a family nonetheless. And Bedelia had said he'd never be happy.

-

For once, Will was the one to suggest the trip to the market.

He’d been in a good mood since getting his revenge against Mason and forging a new relationship with Hannibal. He’d even managed to murder Cordell, when the man had come around asking if he knew where Mason was. It’d been a good week. A very good week.

“Is there anything new you’d like, Abigail? I was thinking I’d buy a couple fishing poles. I can’t believe I haven’t yet already.”

Abigail smiled. “Nothing in particular, no. Maybe I’ll see something though.”

Hannibal was fairly certain Abigail suspected something, between Will and he, but he was also certain she wouldn't say anything to anyone, so he didn't pay it any mind. It only meant he was able to be a bit freer in his affections, when it was just them and Abigail.

Will seemed very happy with their new arrangement, and Hannibal was privately celebrating a job gone well. Seeing Will Ravenstag walk into his shop all those weeks ago, he couldn't have pictured a better outcome.

He followed along behind Will and Abigail, taking in the people at the market, eying the activity around them.

“What about you, Hannibal? Think you’re gonna get anything besides food?” Will asked, pausing to look at some combs made from whale bone.

"I already have everything else I need," Hannibal said, brushing a hand over Will's back in a not quite casual gesture.

Will’s lips twitched. He was tempted for a moment to chide the other with a "not in public," but, it was probably best not to draw any unnecessary attention to it. He started walking again after selecting a new comb for his shop. He thought it best to replace those once in a while, given that they couldn’t be cleansed with a sharpening, like his razors could.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t spoil yourself once in a while. After all, business has been booming.”

"That it has," Hannibal agreed. Unfortunately, he couldn't "spoil" himself in the way he might usually. Not until he was certain of Will's reaction.

Hannibal paused, feeling eyes on him. He turned, and made eye contact with an impressive looking woman, straight-backed, golden blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders.

She had a rather pinched look on his face, and when Hannibal smiled, she didn't return it.

Will turned, raising an eyebrow when he saw Hannibal looking at something. He followed his gaze to some pissy looking woman who seemed to be watching them. “I wonder what her problem is,” he said, mostly to himself, before turning his attention back to the combs. “Do you want one of these, Abigail?”

“That one does look rather nice… I think a brush would be better though.”

“On your hair, either one would work fine, depending on how tangled it is. A comb is good if it’s not too tangled and you want to avoid static.”

“Alright, if you’re sure.”

Hannibal could guess precisely what her problem was. "Excuse me for a moment."

Hannibal moved through the market towards Bedelia, a pleasant smile on his face. "My dear Bedelia... it's been too long."

Her lips twitched up in imitation of a smile. "For some perhaps."

He chuckled. "I didn't know you were back in town. I have a gift for you."

"Is that so?" She averted her gaze as Hannibal fixed steely eyes on her, the threat in them far different from the curl of his mouth.

"It is. You should come by the shop, sometime. There are some people I'd like you to meet."

"Maybe I will…”

-

“So, do you know who that woman was in the market yesterday?” Will asked curiously as he helped Hannibal prepare breakfast the next morning. He’d seen him talking to her, but he didn’t know if they actually knew each other or not.

Hannibal smiled, giving the other a nod. "That was Bedelia. I wouldn't be surprised if she showed up around here, some day soon. She's just returned to London from a trip to France.”

“Ahh, so that was Bedelia.” She hadn’t looked too pleased to see them. He had to wonder about that. “Is France as bad as London is?”

"I should hope not. I haven't been there in some time, but I remember it being a lovely country." Hannibal set up the plates, looking down at his handiwork with a pleased smile.

“When were you in France?”

"When I was a young man," Hannibal explained, "Once I came of age, I left my uncle's home and went there to find work.”

“Sometimes I swear you’ve been everywhere,” Will teased lightly, lips twitching as he stepped aside to watch Hannibal do his plating. “Was it you she was unhappy with? Or Abigail?” Most would see him and assume him to be a friend of Hannibal’s, but Abigail could either be his daughter or young wife, so there was more reason for a woman to be angry there.

Hannibal tilted his head. "You're mistaken Will. I'm sure Bedelia was very pleased to see me." At least, she was pleased to see him in a good mood, that was certain. He picked up the plates to take them to the table, giving Will one last smile before walking off.

“Does she always look like that when she’s pleased?” Will raised an eyebrow, picking up whatever was left to carry and following. “Should I go wake Abigail?”

"Yes, thank you," Hannibal agreed.

Bedelia had the potential to be a problem...he'd have to make sure he kept an eye on her.

-

After breakfast, Will went up to prep the shop for another day of work, pleased with the knowledge that Hannibal and Abigail, the family he’d never gotten to truly have, in his previous life, were downstairs now doing the same for Hannibal’s business. It wasn’t the life he’d pictured for himself as a child, but, he was happy with it.

He hummed to himself in his head as he cleaned every surface carefully, idly wondering what sort of people he’d encounter today.

Bedelia stared at the door of Will Graham's tonsorial parlor, breathing shallow. It wasn't wise for her to be here, she knew. Hannibal was a dangerous man. It would be best to remain in his favor... but she couldn't in good conscious let someone else make the mistake she had.

She pushed open the door, putting on a small smile. "...Will Graham, I presume?"

She wasn't an idiot. Hannibal had only ever looked that happy around one person. In the same shop, with the same look, this Graham was a face from the past. She'd never met him in person, no, but Hannibal had spoken of him often.

She'd been jealous, as a younger woman... until she realized what Hannibal was really like.

Will looked up, recognizing the woman in an instant. None-the-less, he put on a pleasant smile for her, something he was getting better at faking. “Yes. Have you come for a haircut?”

"No." Bedelia closed the door behind her, pausing before entering the room. "Actually, I came to tell you a story..."

She walked towards the window, a frown on her face.

*There was a barber and his wife...

And he was beautiful...

A foolish barber and his wife

She was his reason and his life

And she was beautiful

And she was virtuous

And he was... naive*

She looked over her shoulder, frowning.

*There was another man who saw

That he was beautiful

A wolf who hid all of his claws

A monster that nobody saw

Who used his charm and all his grace...

To lure the wife down from her place...

And she would fall

So soft, so young

I thought he was so beautiful...*

She pressed a hand over her trembling lips, eyes dropping to the floor as she recalled what she'd seen that day. The day she learned what Hannibal really was.

The body. The blood.

"Hannibal is a wolf in sheep's clothing. I don't know what's going on between the two of you. But if you think he's your friend...you’re wrong. He's not capable of that. I'm not even sure if he's human…"

Will frowned at the mention of a story, eyebrows raising. He listened curiously, confusion growing more. _He_  was the lovely, naive one? His eyes narrowed a little, not liking the implications. Was she saying Mason thought _he_  was beautiful? What a disgusting thought…

But…that seemed off. Bedelia thought…

His eyes widened a bit when she concluded her story, silent for a moment, as his mind briefly stopped working.

When he got some of his senses back, he wet his lips, heartbeat quickening as he parted them to speak. “What makes you suspect Hannibal..?” It had to be some kind of misunderstanding. He couldn’t—no… didn’t want to believe that he could do something like that. He and Alana had been friends. She’d been the one to introduce them. And Mason was such human slime… “I was under the impression that Judge Mason was the one to take her life.”

Bedelia shook her head, glancing nervously towards the door. "I used to...hope there might be something between Hannibal and I. I was the only woman he ever gave the time of day to. He knew things about me... knows things, that I cannot tell anyone else. He's kept my secrets. I trusted him. One day, I went to his restaurant to visit while it was closed. He doesn't allow anyone in his basement, but I didn't think he'd mind." Bedelia paused, closing her eyes at the memory that flashed through her mind.

"What I saw...well. That day was the last I ever ate at Florence Whispers." She shook her head. "I'm telling you this because I don't want someone repeating my mistakes. Tell Hannibal...I'm ending our acquaintance.”

Will felt cold. He felt a very strong, very violent urge to kill Bedelia for this. He wanted to kill her, wanted to feed her to Hannibal, wanted him to tell him it wasn’t true and that he wasn’t Alana’s true murderer. How could he…

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “…I advise you leave now.”

Bedelia nodded. "I intended to." With a brief tilt of her head, and a swish of fabric, she was gone.

Will waited a few seconds after Bedelia left before locking the door, deciding business could just stay closed for a while. Maybe the whole day. Maybe forever. He just needed to have a little chat with his partner…

“Hannibal! Come here, I need to talk to you,” he called, mentally preparing for anything he might need to do.

Hannibal looked up when he heard his name, smiling at hearing Will's voice. "Mind the store for a moment, Abigail," he instructed, wiping his hands on his apron and going to see what Will needed.

Will leaned against the doorway, trying to concentrate on breathing, on keeping his face blank, on not thinking overly hard, or dwelling. He needed answers, first and foremost.

Once Hannibal was in the room with him, he moved to lean against the door instead, arms folded over his chest. “I just had a rather…interesting conversation, Hannibal…Care to guess what it was about?”

Hannibal tilted his head, lips curling in amusement. "I haven't the faintest idea," he said, eyes studying Will's face. He moved closer, lightly inhaling the other's scent. He frowned when he smelt Bedelia's perfume "Might I have a hint?”

“Bedelia was just here.”

Hannibal kept his posture and expression casual, despite the irritation quickly filling his mind. "Is that so? Did you have a pleasant chat?”

“Not really.” Will frowned, staring down hard at the floor, brow furrowing. “…Did you lie to me about Mason? About Alana?”

Bedelia...he was going to kill that woman slowly. Hannibal swallowed at the look on Will's face, remaining where he was. How to put it in a way that would make Will understand? Could he? All these years later and Alana was still keeping them apart.

She had been his friend, but he could see plainly how she would have judged Will, have been afraid of him, if she could see what he really was.

*No don't misunderstand...

Yes it's true I lied

I could see you, she couldn't Will

Alana had to die

Poor thing*

He stepped closer, clasping his hands behind his back, imploring Will with his eyes.

*If she lived she would call you weak in the head

say there's something wrong try to keep you in bed

put you in the hospital or maybe bedlam instead

poor thing

better she just wind up dead

yes I lied because I love you

aren't I twice the wife she was

I love you

Could Alana care for you like me?*

Anger threatened to leak into his tone, but he tried to control it, eying Will, seeing what he would do. He didn't want to have to hurt him.

Will swallowed thickly, feeling on edge, like his skin was crawling. Hannibal…It had been Hannibal all along…He’d tricked him into believing it was Mason. Tricked him into killing. Into befriending him. Into loving him.

He curled his hands into fists, letting the nails bite into his palms. “I wasn’t like this before…I went to prison because of you…You turned me into a man she couldn’t have been with.” He felt angry. Angry and betrayed, his trust utterly violated. All those years in prison…Any innocence he might have held in him destroyed…And it was by a man who dared call himself their friend all along?“How could you do that to me? To her? She trusted you too.”

Hannibal frowned, sighing when Will acted predictably.For a moment he just stared, eyes glistening faintly in the low light. "I sensed potential in you, Will. I never intended for you to go to jail for her death." He tilted his head. "I considered Alana a friend. I gave her a merciful death. I even let you help me dispose of the remains." He knew Will would not be grateful, for that. He was angry, though, that Will could not see things were better this way. That Will preferred his old, bland life, to everything he had to offer.It hurt that Will could not see him completely. Especially after believing he could, for that brief time.

Will felt like he was going to be sick.“I should kill you,” he said, thinking aloud, more to himself than to Hannibal. He knew he should kill Hannibal for this. Feed his body to any stray dogs he could find in town. If he’d found out a week ago…Maybe…

He refused to look at the other, his throat tight. He wanted to hit the man. Scream. Rage. But he couldn’t seem to find the strength to swing his fist.

Hannibal waited, only marginally hopeful at the "should." He stood and watched Will, feeling the tenuous connection he'd worked so carefully on snapping and falling apart. "I believe it might be time, then, for our partnership to come to an end."

He didn't want to kill Will if he didn't have to. He didn't even know if he could. It would be such a waste of a great mind.

“Goodbye, Hannibal.”

What about Abigail? He didn’t even know where he would go now. Would it be worse to take her with him or leave her here with Hannibal..? He wanted to trust that Hannibal wouldn’t hurt her unless he felt he had to, but… what did he really know about the man, if he hadn’t even been able to tell that he’d been the one to rip Alana from him?

“If any of it was real. Any of it at all. Don’t hurt Abigail.” He felt like crying as he moved to the door and slipped outside.

Hannibal swallowed, watching Will leave. He would only hurt Abigail if it was necessary. He was quite fond of the girl. He didn't want those to be their last words to each other, though. "I meant everything I said, Will."

He did love him. As much as he was capable of it. He would have liked to take him and Abigail to Florence.

Would it have been better, he wondered, if he'd tried to woo Will more delicately? Exposed him, gradually, to those dark things the man seemed drawn to? He couldn't know. It didn't matter.

Hannibal remained still, turning his eyes towards the parlor. He had a thousand questions, but none of them would be answered.

-

“…Hey, um, Hannibal..? Do you know where Will went..?” Abigail asked timidly, remembering Hannibal telling her a few days prior that Will had gone. She’d been afraid to ask, at the time, but… she hadn’t seen him since… “Do you think he’s coming back..?”

Hannibal paused wiping down the counters, lip twitching imperceptibly at the question. "No."

He did not know where Will went. He hadn't seen the man since he left, but he also hadn't been visited by the authorities, so he could only assume their secret was safe.

The loss of Will was not just frustrating after he'd spent so much time planning, and easing him into their life together, and not because he'd waited years on the off chance the man might return. He felt... hurt. Perhaps it was presumptuous to think Will might have chosen him over his wife, if given the choice. That was after all, why he'd killed her in the first place…

Abigail frowned. She felt sad, but…Hannibal obviously felt far sadder. “…Maybe we could try to find him..?”

"If Will wants to return, he will," Hannibal said, straightening and snapping his rag harder than strictly necessary as he re-folded it. "Though I'm sure if you found him, he'd be pleased to see you.”

Abigail’s frown deepened. She didn’t know why Will had left, but, she was sure he missed Hannibal too…

Sensing the man needed to be left alone though, she simply nodded, before wandering off to busy herself with work around the shop.

-

Hannibal knew Bedelia well. He also knew that she would understand what she'd done had consequences. She was a smart woman, she would attempt to leave London as quickly as possible.

So, on the night that the next ship was leaving the London docks, he was waiting for her.

Bedelia was a smart woman. She didn’t bother trying to get away.

Hannibal had thought about eating Bedelia for a long time.

But, when he took the first bite of his private meal, his table decorated with fresh flowers and a lovely glass of vintage wine at his fingertips, she tasted cold and flavorless. He didn't regret killing her. He simply knew that killing her would not solve the problem. Logically, he should have been searching for Will. He knew his secret, and didn't fear him, as Bedelia had. He could ruin everything.

But, he could not predict his behavior around that man. He made him think and act irrationally.

So he sat, and ate his way through his unsatisfying meal, watching the shadows the candlelight flickered onto the table.

He thought about Florence. If Will had slipped through his fingers there was no longer any reason to stay in London. He wondered how Abigail would feel about Italy.

-

Will tried to forget about Hannibal and move on, but, try as he might, it was proving impossible.

At first, he tried to dismiss it as his unquenched thirst for vengeance. After all, his revenge against Mason had ended up being unwarranted. Just one of Hannibal’s lies. He hadn’t gotten revenge for Alana at all. No revenge for his wasted years of life. He didn’t regret killing the man though. All he needed to reassure him that that murder had been worth committing was the memory of Mason’s arrogant face when he’d ended the trial and sent him to prison with no regard for any defense for himself he might have.

And yet, while he did entertain fantasies of going back to kill Hannibal, taking from the man what had been taken from him…he found himself worn out after, rather than vitalized or invigorated in any way.

Killing him… It would be what was best for him, he was sure. Killing him would end this. What would he do after that though? Resume normal life? Run the barber shop until either he was found out or he died himself? The idea seemed almost unbearable, even though that had been his plan from the start. He supposed he could kill himself and be at peace, but then, who would take care of Abigail? Would be even be able to bring himself to kill Hannibal, even with time to prepare himself?

He hated Hannibal for the way he’d managed to get under his skin. For lying to him. For harming Alana… If he’d only hurt him, it wouldn’t be betraying her memory to forgive him. To go back. To continue where they’d left off…

He missed the shop… Missed the restaurant… Missed his family… 

It was driving him crazy to stay away, so, after a couple long weeks of forcing himself to, he eventually let himself wander back into the vicinity. He was careful not to let himself be seen, merely observing the restaurant from a safe distance, hoping for a fleeting glance that might tell him what to do.

Watching from afar proved to be in vain, so, after a while of debating and weighing the risks, he slowly crept closer, closer, until, to his shock, it became evident that his and Hannibal’s home was…vacant. He drew closer still to read a notice that had been posted.

…

So…The restaurant was closed…Had Hannibal left London..? Where would he go? …He had a pretty good idea, actually. 

The man was always romanticizing about Italy, about Florence.

Once he was there, he was sure he could pinpoint a few locations that may be of interest to Hannibal, could hunt him down… Did he really want to do this though..? What choice did he have though? He’d already come this far, and it wasn’t like he cared for London any longer. Most of his memories of this place were tainted. A change of location. A fresh start. It sounded… rather nice… 

Decision made, he went to pack up what little he cared about, and then set about to arranging transportation.

-

Hannibal smiled as he stared at La Primavera in the Uffizi gallery, a sense of peace running through him. He almost wished he'd brought his sketchbook, but it wouldn't be fair to Abigail if he'd just sat there and drawn the whole time.

He looked over at the girl, giving her a smile. Sometimes, he thought about killing her. Thought about figuring out where Will was, and slitting her throat, leaving her body for him to find. He wanted to punish Will.

But, somewhere he knew, while it would hurt the man who'd hurt him, it would not bring him back. And Abigail, while she didn't know everything about him, was a smart girl, with a darkness of her own. Perhaps one day, he could teach her the family trade.

"Isn't it lovely?”

Abigail nodded her head, before turning it to look up at him. “It is. I sometimes wonder how painters control their brushstrokes so well to make things like this.”

She didn’t notice the man approaching them, hearing his footsteps, but thinking nothing of it, until he came to stand right behind them.

Before Hannibal could respond to Abigail's comment, a familiar scent wafted into his nose. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. It was impossible not to doubt his senses. Then Abigail spoke, and Hannibal swore his heart defied the laws of logic and stoped beating, for a moment.

“Will!”

“Yeah.”

Hannibal turned, trying to keep his expression calm, but a smile curled his lips despite himself. "Will," he greeted, even just saying the man's name again a balm to the hole Will had left in their little family.

Abigail ran over to hug the man she hadn’t seen in months, which he gladly returned, though he kept his eyes on Hannibal. “How’d you know where we were?”

“I didn’t really. I just took a good guess.”

Hannibal wouldn't lie, he had been hoping that, should he and Abigail leave, Will might come searching. Seeing him in front of him though, knowing that the other had been able to find him simply by considering where he might take Abigail made him feel warm for the first time since he'd left London, despite the nice weather. "A very good guess. Are you enjoying the gallery?”

“I don’t think I have quite the eye for art that you do, but, it is some really nice stuff, yeah. It’s just a shame that I don’t speak Italian.” Clearly, they needed to talk about some things, but they couldn’t do it with Abigail there, so it would just have to wait until later.

“Are you going to stay?” Abigail asked hopefully. She wanted to ask why he’d left to begin with, but… she assumed it was something to do with his relationship with Hannibal, so maybe it was best not to.

“Depends. I don’t see myself going back to London any time soon though, so don't worry.”

"Why don't you continue your tour with us," Hannibal suggested. "I can help you with the Italian." He doubted Will had forgotten, or forgiven him for what he'd done, but perhaps some time spent indulging in what he'd given up would remind him that all they had was each other.

“Sure,” Will agreed, nodding, wrapping an arm affectionately around Abigail’s shoulders as he moved to stand beside Hannibal, as well. He’d missed them…Seeing them again just made that fact even more apparent.

Hannibal led the two through the parts of the gallery he and Abigail had yet to see explaining the history of the art that he knew, and reading the descriptions of those he didn't. He was eager to prove to Will that regardless of what he'd done, his life was far better with he and Abigail in it. The fact that after all this time, Will had returned to him, only gave him more assurance he would be successful in that venture.

Hm… Hannibal sure did like to flaunt his intellect.

Will couldn’t help but feel fond even as Hannibal drowned him in not particularly necessary information, listening, if only because the sound of his voice after pulling away for the few months was practically intoxicating. He wondered if Alana, wherever she was, if souls even lived on after death at all, would ever forgive him. This was the same man who’d butchered his wife and apparently fed her to him… And yet here he was. In Italy. Because he’d chased after him. And he was even asking idle questions just to keep him talking.

He had both hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the artwork Hannibal showed them, though they’d flicker over to observe the man himself every once in a while. He couldn’t quite bring himself to feel any flicker of hatred. Even as he pictured him in the act.

All that did was make him feel sad. Regret. Maybe a bit of resentment. But… no hatred.

“Do you two have a place here yet?”

Having Will's undivided attention on him once more was intoxicating. He'd missed that strong gaze, the other's soft, yet strong voice.

At the question, Hannibal nodded. "Yes, it is quite lovely. There is room for you, if you haven't found lodgings yet." Of course there was room for Will. An entire room, in fact. He wondered if Abigail had caught on to that fact.

“Thanks. I was hoping you’d say that,” Will admitted, though he was sure Hannibal already knew.

Walking through the streets of Florence with Will and Abigail at his side, felt almost like the gleeful little fantasy he'd imagined for the three of them, so long ago. The fact that Will was still there boded well.

His flat with Abigail was far more lavish than his London home had been. Beautiful paintings hung on the wall, plush carpets decorated the floors, and the furniture was all solid and lavishly designed, with gold accenting their dark brown wood.

He ushered the two inside, and headed for the kitchen. "I'll see about making us something to eat.”

“How did you afford all this?” Will asked appreciatively as he walked inside, surprised. As it was, their place in London had been the nicest he’d ever seen, and this made it look like a barn by comparison. “…Is the food as rich as the decoration..?”

“Isn’t it always?” Abigail laughed, not getting the implication.

Hannibal's smile turned a little smug at how impressed Will seemed. "I told you before, money is not a concern for me. And I prefer to enjoy the finer things. I might have wanted to spoil Abigail, as well."

The question of the food made Hannibal's lips twitch, and he looked over his shoulder. "Quite right, Abigail.”

Will hummed, moving farther in. “Need any help?”

"It would be appreciated," Hannibal said, ducking his head in a small bow before continuing into the kitchen.

Will followed, thankful when Abigail seemed to take the hint that he wanted to talk to Hannibal in private and headed off somewhere else. He took a look around the kitchen as he entered, waiting idly for instruction of some kind. “…Do you think she would be disgusted with me for coming back, now that I know?”

Hannibal tied an apron around his waist, intent on making a feast in celebration of Will's return. Premature, perhaps, but the food wouldn't go to waste. "To whom are you referring, Will?”

Will raised an eyebrow, surprised Hannibal hadn’t somehow read his mind, unless he was just playing at ignorance. Why would he though? “Alana.” 

Hannibal hummed, pausing in his movement to turn and meet Will's eyes. "Yes," he answered honestly, watching Will's face. "I think she would be disgusted with the choices you made. I think she would be disgusted by your thoughts. By your feelings for me." He turned, moving to wash his hands in the sink. "I've known you for a long time, Will. I don't think jail warped you. I think it was merely a catalyst for an inevitable metamorphosis.”

Will frowned, brow furrowing. He looked away, his gut twisting at the words, uncomfortable with just how true they likely were. He had always felt like there were certain things he avoided doing when she was around, but… they’d all seemed like perfectly innocent, albeit weird, things.

There was no denying that he greatly enjoyed killing though. Prison may have given him hatred, a good motivator to go through with his impulses, but… the pleasure in and of itself was entirely his own, wasn’t it?

“Was she in a lot of pain when she died? I know you say that fear taints the meat. Was she tainted, when you fed her to me?”

Hannibal waited to hear Will's response, drying his hands off on a towel with his back still turned. When Will spoke again, his lips curled into a small smile.

He looked at Will, moving to the island and resting his hands on the counter. "She felt nothing. She did not even know who her killer was, in the end." Alana was not a pig. He had genuinely enjoyed her company. She had merely made the wrong choice of husband. So he'd let her soul go, believing she had lived a live full of good friends, and a loving family.

Will’s shoulders visibly relaxed at the relief he felt when Hannibal told him how Alana’s death had gone, breathing a sigh, his lips twitching into a tiny, grateful smile. “Thank you.” He’d hoped, suspected, but hadn’t been able to accept anything but the worst as fact, even if only in his mind, until after he’d gotten his answer.

“I’m glad she didn’t have to die feeling betrayed. It’s an awful feeling.”

Hannibal didn't miss the subtle dig, and he nodded, straightening. "...I did plan to tell you, Will. Once I thought you could understand.”

“Generally speaking, I do like to know who I’m sleeping with.” Perhaps he wasn’t the "typical man" in that sense, but, he’d never bothered to care. Will hummed, and then, curious, he leaned forward against the counter himself. “What exactly made you think I was a potential killer? Just a hunch? Instinct?”

Hannibal raised an eyebrow at the somewhat vulgar description of their relationship. "Predators generally recognize other predators. You didn't see me because I chose to hide that part of myself from you, for a time. But you see me now, Will... don't you.” 

“Yeah. I do. I didn’t want to at first, but… I like what I see.”

Hannibal smiled at that, nodding his head. "It's nice to see you again, Will.”

Will’s own lips twitched at the look on Hannibal’s face, assured now that he’d made the right choice, even if it wasn’t the best one to make. Really, he was seeing Hannibal clearly for the first time now. Without his own anger or doubt clouding his vision. He more than liked what he saw.

“So, what’s for dinner?”


End file.
